


Fold Your Wings

by Deviation



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Parents, Anxiety, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Parenthood, Past Relationship(s), Political Intrigue, Slow Burn, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10043345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deviation/pseuds/Deviation
Summary: In the year 2066, a man killed his brother under the coercion of his clan and ran away. Ten years later, he finds out his brother isn't as dead as once believed and, what's more, wants him to join a new group: Overwatch.But a lot can happen in ten years.When Hanzo Shimada arrives at Watchpoint: Gibraltar with a child in tow no one is really sure what to expect.





	1. Flying South

Six months into recall, a message arrives from one Hanzo Shimada. An acceptance of the offer extended to him, with one condition- that he be allowed to bring a non-combatant on base.

 

There's a short debate among the leaders of the new Overwatch, Angela, Winston, Lena, and Jesse. A non combatant so early in Overwatch’s recall could be dangerous. But none of the old snipers have answered the recall yet, may never in fact. So they accept Hanzo’s condition, sending coordinates. Hanzo’s own reply is even shorter than the first: a time and date.

 

News quickly spreads that they're getting a new member, and the day he's set to arrive there's a gathering of interested agents milling about. They see him approaching from a distance- walking with a large pack on his back and, seemingly, alone.

 

“So who's this “non-combatant” your brothers bringin’,” Jesse drawls around a cigarillo. Unlit in respect for Angela, who's eyes are narrowed at him.

 

“I do not know,” replies genji, “we have not spoken since I extended the offer, I am afraid I don't know the man my brother has become these past years.”

 

Jesse chews on the cigarillo, giving into the vice and lighting it, inhaling the smoke. Angela sighs but doesn't say anything. Genji is tense, Jesse can tell, stiff and standing straight when he normally hunches over. Jesse feels uneasy himself, not knowing what to make of the situation. A sentiment that's shared by the others judging by their shifting and hushed murmurs.

 

Hanzo approaches, standing with his feet apart before them. He doesn't look the way Genji described him- his hair is shaved hair and silver piercings. There's a duffle bag in his hand, and the bag on his back looks big and awkward- shaped strangely. There's more stuff than expected for a man on the run, but less than what Lena brought. It's probably all he owns.

 

Genji takes a step forward, calling out, “it is good to see you again, brother.”

 

Hanzo nods and, contrary to the stern and cold man Genji once described, smiles. It's awkward and his eyes are strained. But it's gentle.

 

Winston coughs and adjusts his glasses, “welcome to our base, I trust you had no trouble following the directions sent?”

 

Hanzo nods and turns to face the rest of them, offering a shallow bow hindered by the bag on his back, “I am Hanzo Shimada,” he offers, his voice low and quiet, Jesse strains to hear him, “thank you for this opportunity.”

 

“I'm Lena!” She exclaims, offering a clumsy bow of her own, her voice much louder than Hanzo’s own “its good to meet you! Where-”

 

“I apologize,” Hanzo interrupts quietly, “please keep your voice down, it took a long time to get her to sleep”

 

There's a moment of quiet and before anyone could question what he meant a soft, small, _young_ voice chimes in, “I am awake, Tou-San”

 

Hanzo seems to sigh heavily through his nose, before shifting the pack on his back to the ground between them and him. There's some pots attached to the side and two sleeping bags tiled up at the top, and, from the angle they were at, it looked like a small hikers bag. But with the bag on the ground it's obvious that it's been modified to act as a child carrier. Hanzo swiftly undoes some straps and out of the bag stands a young girl holding some sort of strange plush.

 

Hanzo is kneeling in the dirt, straightening out the girls shirt that had twisted around and brushing his fingers through her bobbed hair, trying to neaten her bangs. The child stands mostly still rocking back and forth on her toes, most likely stretching, but she remains quiet. Her hair is black, like her father's,with a lavender bow on the side. her skin is a few shades darker, most likely like her mother's. She has her fathers eyes, and her cheeks are full and round with youth.

 

Genji is the first to respond, moving slowly forward and crouching before the girl, “hello,” he says, voice strained and a little shaky, “who might you be?”

 

The girl looks to Genji and then to Hanzo, seeking something. Hanzo’s face is strange, twisted oddly, and he's frowning slightly, but he does nod. The girl turns back to Genji and offers a quiet, “Asuka”

 

“I see, how is it written?”

 

The girl looks confused for a moment and turns to her father, who says something in Japanese. The girl turns back to Genji and responds to his question in the same language. Genji replies, switching to Japanese, and whatever he says makes the girl smile and hide her face in her plush. Hanzo let's out a snort, and says something that sounds fond. Genji stands again and says in English, for the benefit of those gathered, “You did not mention you would be bringing a child.”

 

“I wrote in my message a non-combatant,” Hanzo points out, eyebrow raised and stance tense. Asuka looks back and forth between Hanzo and the crowd gathered and takes a small step back, into the front of Hanzo’s legs. Without hesitation, Hanzo places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

 

“A child is very different from an adult non-combatant, Mr. Shimada,” Winston says.

 

“A base is no place for a kid,” Soldier gruffs out.

 

Others nod in agreement, Hanzo only tenses further. Asuka tugs at Hanzo’s coat, and without breaking eye contact with his brother, bends down and scoops her up in his arms, shifting her to his hip. She buries her head in between his neck and shoulder.

 

“Let’s bring them on inside, at least, ‘for we start discussin’ logistics,” Jesse drawls. He snuffs out his cigarillo in courtesy to the kid, “Mr. Shimada here mentioned the kid being tired.”

 

“Yes,” Genji says, “Why don’t you talk with them, brother? I will watch over Asuka-chan.”

 

For a long moment, it looks like Hanzo is going to bolt in the opposite direction. But he takes a breath and seems to force himself to relax and murmurs something too low to be heard by anyone but Asuka, and, perhaps, Genji, if by the way he stands a little straighter is anything to go by, to hear. After a moment, Asuka lifts her head and nods, turning in Hanzo’s arms and reaching out towards Genji.

 

Jesse only knows that Genji is shocked by the way he holds himself. He hesitates for only a moment tho, before stepping forward and awkwardly putting the girl in his arms and holding her stiffly.

 

“No, like this,” Hanzo says, stepping forward and shifting Genji’s arms around Asuka, shifting her until she’s on Genji’s hip securely. Asuka already has her head on Genji’s shoulder similarly to the way she had on Hanzo’s. Absently, he flattens her hair, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She giggles and says something in Japanese.

 

Hanzo chuckles and says, “Practice your English, Asu-chan.”

 

She puffs out her cheeks and shakes her head no.

 

Genji says something in a conspiratorial tone that causes Asuka to giggle and nod. Heaving a sigh that is more for show than for any real annoyance, Hanzo turns to face the rest of them. The softness in his face is immediately replaced by something a little more distant, a little more cold. It’s a subtle change, but one felt by all. He inclines his head, indicating that they should take the lead.

 

Winston is the first to turn and head inside, followed shortly by the others. Lena is practically vibrating as she walks before she can no longer contain her excitement and turns to Hanzo, beaming, “That your lil’ sprout?”

 

Hanzo eyebrows raise slightly before he forms a slight “o” with his mouth, “Asu-chan is my daughter, yes.”

 

“That’s brilliant!” she claps her hands together doing a little spin, “She right adorable! What was that thing with Genji askin’ how her name is written? I’m Lena Oxton by the way! Good to meet you!”

 

Hanzo’s eyes have regained a bit of sparkle to them and he chuckles slightly, “It is good to meet you, Ms. Oxton. I am Hanzo Shimada. As for what you refer...Japanese names are most often written using Kanji- each character has it’s own meaning and pronunciation. Asuka may be in many ways with many different Kanji. For example, it may be written using either the characters for ‘tomorrow’ and ‘fragrance’ or ‘scent’ or with the Kanji for ‘fly’ and ‘bird’. These are not, however, the only combinations of Kanji one may use for the name Asuka,” his voice naturally slipped into an easy cadence with clear pronunciation- a teacher’s voice.

 

“That’s real neat!” Lena exclaims

 

Whatever Lena might have said next is lost as they approach a large sliding door that opens upon Winston’s approach, revealing an oval table with a holoprojector in the middle surrounded by uncomfortable looking office chairs and...a tire swing. Everyone heads towards what seems to be unassigned but claimed seating and Hanzo opts to stand, despite Lena waving at him to come sit by her. He keeps himself as close to the door as possible and keeps his knees slightly bent, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

 

There’s silence for a moment as Winston clambers up his tire swing and sighs heavily.

 

“Well, to start, My name’s Winston, since we didn’t get to introductions earlier,” He gestures to his left, “You’ve already been introduced to Lena Oxton, Callsign: Tracer,” Lena gives a happy wave, and Winston gestures to the next person, “Jesse McCree,” the cowboy tipped his hat with a smirk and wink that felt practiced, “Angela Ziegler, callsign, Mercy,” the blonde wearing trousers and a white button up and a cold expression on her face nodded shortly, “And that’s the main bunch of us. There’s more around base, each a specialist in their own field- but they are not a part of the decision making group.”

 

“And I am Athena,” the holoprojector sparks to life in the center of the table, a stylized triangle taking form.

 

Hanzo raises a brow, eyes curious, “An AI?”

 

“Err, No! A VI system, a highly advanced one!” Winston chuckles fiddling with his glasses.

 

“I see,” his voice is expressionless but Hanzo does not press for more.

 

“When you said there would be a non-combatant Mr. Shimada, we were under the impression it would be an adult, capable of defending themselves,” Angela interjects, voice cool.

 

“Yes,” Winston says, obviously happy for the change in topic, “there was no mention of a child- none of our reports on you stated you had a child.”

 

“Good,”Hanzo nods, “I would like to keep it that way.”

 

There’s a moment of confusion, then, “Mr. Shimada, all agents have updated records on them, as does everyone on base. We can’t have an undocumented child running about base- it’s asking for trouble,” explains Winston.

 

“You do not understand the situation,” Hanzo begins

 

Only to be cut off by Angela, “No it is you who does not understand,  bringing a child to a vigilante organization, putting her in direct danger!” she shakes her head mouth turned down in disgust, “Genji claimed you to have been changed- a man worthy of forgiveness. This does not seem the action of a man worthy of forgiveness.”

 

“You know _nothing_ of what I did, or why I did it,” Hanzo snarls.

 

“On the contrary _Mr._ Shimada I know _exactly_ what you did as I was the one to put him back together!”

 

Hanzo’s mouth shuts with a click of his teeth and he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, “Then you know what one Shimada is capable of,” he says after a moment, “Now, perhaps, imagine a clan’s worth who would not hesitate to kill or torture a child in order to bring a prized _asset_ to heel. Who have killed before in an attempt to get to me.”

 

Silence. Hanzo opens his eyes, they are sharp enough to cut the night.

 

“I tried. Once. To hide and settle and disguise myself. I found love. I found peace. But it was only to be temporary, when the Shimada caught up to me, they left nothing behind. Had Asuka not been with me that day…” he trails off, shaking his head, “You need a sniper- I am one of the best in the world. I need a safe place to hide Asuka- a hidden base with an advanced _VI_ system will keep her safe, so long as everything on her remains on paper and not electronic she may know peace, for a time. It is a mutually beneficial deal,” he finishes.

 

Angela looks slightly ashamed and Lena looks devastated by the story. Winston is harder to read, as is Jesse, with his hat down over the upper half of his face.

 

Jesse moves then, tilting his head up and a snake’s smile on his face, “How do we know you won’t sell us out to our enemies for protection? Or to your own family?”

 

At this, Hanzo scowls, “My word is the only honor I have left,” he says, making eye contact with Jesse, “Should you accept me into your organization, then so long as you uphold your end of the agreement I shall uphold mine,” here Hanzo scowls deeper, “And I would sooner give up my life than do anything to benefit my clan,” he nearly spits.

 

For a long moment there is eye contact between them, and then Jesse sits back kicking his spurred feet onto the table, smile easing into something a little more genuine but with steal still hidden beneath, “So long as we understand each other.”

 

“Ah, yes, well, given the circumstance, I’m sure we could make some exceptions with our electronic databases. Keep Ms. Asuka off the radar, so to speak, right, Dr. Ziegler?” Winston turns to Angela at that.

 

For a moment it seems she stares into Hanzo’s eyes and seems to be searching for something. She seems to find it as after a moment she sighs and says, “Come by my office with Ms. Asuka later today and we will build a paper medical record for her. It will be positively medieval but it will be enough in case of emergencies.”

 

“I understand,” says Hanzo seriously.

 

“Well then, Mr. Shimada, we will give you and your daughter the next two days to rest and get acquainted with the base. After that- you’ll be training with some of the others to assess your skills and see with who you may work best with,” Winston pads his large finger over a holographic screen, reading something before nodding. He reaches under the table and pulls out a small  box, which he slides towards Hanzo.

 

“This is a communicator, made so that it can only contact others that have been authorized. If you have any electronics, please give them to me before you access them so that I can install the necessary firewalls to ensure our protection. Dinner is at 1900 hours. That should give you time to find your room- Genji can lead you there.”

  
With the unspoken dismissal, Hanzo nods, bowing shallowly, “I look forward to working with all of you.” and then turns and exits the meeting room.

  
There’s silence for a moment and then, “Sure this is a good idea, big guy? A kid on base? And an assassin at that?” Lena’s jovial disposition traded in for one more serious.

 

Winston shakes his head, rifling around his desk for a jar of peanut butter- crunchy of course, “I don’t know if it’s a good idea but he was right- he’s one of the best in the world and the only one not affiliated with one of our enemies.”

 

“Should we even trust him? I know Genji said to forgive him but…”Angela trails off, “The child could be an attempt to manipulate us.”

 

They turn to Jesse, who rocks back on his chair, looking up at the ceiling, waiting for his call on this one. After a moment he sighs through his nose, “Guy’s genuine about the kid,” he drawls, “You see the way he was ready to bolt when ol’ Soldier started barkin’? And the kid- she obviously trusts him. That’s not a thing you can build up overnight to try and trick a bunch o folks,” He pauses for a moment,, mumbles something about a smoke, then continues, “Genji seemed surprised by some things tho. I say, check his stuff over, plant some of our own Athena brand bugs in his rooms and electronics, and talk to Genji about why he seemed so surprised. Go from there. Keep the girl off electronic records tho, in case he’s tellin’ the truth. Last thing we need is the Shimada goin’ after a sweet kid like that.”

 

He falls silent again, as does the room, but each are lost in their own thoughts- each remembering the state that one Genji Shimada came to Overwatch so long ago. That was just one Shimada- as Hanzo had said. A clan’s worth of them, after one child? It’s a terrifying thought. And a reality that Hanzo has already faced if he’s telling the truth.

 

“One things for certain,” says Jesse, “Thing sure are about to get a lot more interestin’ ‘round here.”        

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What has genji so shook? Find out next time!
> 
> Do I have too many fics? Probably! Am I gonna keep writing more? Definitely! 
> 
> Comments feed hungry writers! If you have any questions about anything I'll be happy to answer!


	2. Asleep At The Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asuka watches Happy Flower Friends and sees the doctor. Then they settle in for their first night at a new place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy smokes wow!! The response to this has been a-mei-zing. Y'all are really thirsty for dads, huh? (jk same) 
> 
> I worked on this extra hard for all of you you commented and mentioned me on twitter and other places! I nearly cried when I saw people were talking about my fic outside of this little corner of the web haha.

Hanzo leaves, in search of his brother and daughter. He walks quickly, but silently, his hands clenched in fists as he searches for his only family in this unfamiliar place. He makes mental notes and maps as he walks the hallways, trying to get his bearings. Eventually, his feet lead him to a large room with several couches at one end and an old television mounted to the wall- not even holovision. There’s some book shelves in the opposite corner, and an old chess set that’s seen better days. A glance to the side of the door would reveal a small plac revealing the words “Rec. Room”. Not that Hanzo has mind for that. His focus is purely on the couch in front of the television, where his brother and daughter sit, the younger watching a cartoon and the older watching her.

 

The sight fills Hanzo with an undefinable emotion- one that makes him want to stay and watch them forever. In a perfect world, he would have had this every day for the past five years of Asuka’s life. This would be a regular occurrence, and his brother would be flesh and blood not some unholy combination of metal and man.

 

By the tilt of Genji’s head, Hanzo knows he knows he’s here, but he can’t approach. Not yet. The television sings some annoying children’s song in spanish, his brother is alive. His daughter is safe for the foreseeable future and is sitting next to his brother watching television. He’s surrounded by murderers and thieves as dirty as he is and he’s supposed to trust that they won’t turn them into the Shimada on the word of his brother, who’s ten years dead. But isn’t. Who’s screams still wake Hanzo up at night, along side the scream of-

 

No. This isn’t the time. This isn’t the place. He takes a deep, cleansing breath, and lets it go, stepping forward into the rec room. Genji makes a show of noticing him, calling out to him “Greetings brother, we were just watching Happy Flower Friends!”

 

“Tou-san!” Asuka calls out, excited to see him, she’s about to continue when Hanzo holds out a hand, eyebrow raised. She pouts, but continues, slower and more unsure of herself, “Uncle show me-Spanish yes?”

 

“If you would like to learn spanish you may,” Hanzo intones slowly, to which Asuka cheers in delight. “But,” Hanzo raises his voice slightly to be heard, “You must still learn English.”

 

A groan of dismay, and Asuka flops dramatically onto the couch, head in Genji’s lap.

 

Genji’s hand hovers over Asuka’s hair and then runs delicately through it.

 

Asuka gets caught back up in her Happy Flower Friends show. No one makes a sound, each engrossed in their own world.

 

“So I am an Uncle now,” muses Genji, twirling a piece of hair around his finger.

 

“Yes,” Hanzo says back straight and legs apart, hands at his sides, “You are.”

 

“And her mother?”

 

Silence. Silence that stretches out long enough to be it’s own answer. One of the sunflowers on screen hits another flower, a tulip, who begins crying. Dramatic music plays.

 

“I see. So they would take even this from us, given the chance.”

 

“They have,” Hanzo’s hands are clenched at his sides, now.

 

“I am sorry. To be father and mother both…it must be a-”

 

“No,” intones Hanzo sharply, “It never has been. Not for a moment. Every second has been worth it.”

 

“I see,” Silence for a another long moment. An old oak tree is lecturing the sunflower on the merits of keeping their hands to themself, “I am happy for you, brother.”

 

It could be left at that- so easily it could be all that’s said between them. But Hanzo has lost much and gained little these past ten years- so when the opportunity to gain a little more comes by, he takes it, “If you wish...it would be an honor, for her to learn of her esteemed Uncle from the source, rather than from stories.”

 

“You may regret saying that, brother,” Genji replies, amusement in his voice but something deeper too.

 

“No,” Hanzo says, the sunflower apologizing to the tulip on screen, “I think not.”  

 

* * *

  

 

“Open your mouth for me, dear,” Angela says, tongue depressor in hand.

 

Asuka eyes the tongue depressor with a hatred felt by all at one point in their lives or another. Then she turns wide eyes to Angela and cocks her head to the side. Angela hesitates and goes to her tools, muttering about saving the worst for last anyway.

 

Hanzo sighs through his nose and tugs Asuka’s ear, not hard, but with enough force that her nose scrunches up and she bats at his hand, complaining in Japanese.

 

“English in front of Doctor Ziegler, Asu-chan. Do not look at me that way. I am immune to such tricks.”

 

Asuka pouts deeper, her eyes getting big and watery. Sweat beads along the back of Hanzo’s neck as he stares her down, back straight arms crossed, trying to be firm.

 

“I’ll give you a sweetie, sweetie!” Angela says, waving a lollipop back and forth.

 

Immediately, and _miraculously_ completely understanding the English used by Angela, Asuka opens her mouth as wide as possible, causing the two adults in the room to chuckle.

 

“You’ll spoil her Doctor Ziegler,” says Hanzo, amused.

 

“Children need spoiling every now and then, Mister Shimada. Besides, I’m not the one who needs to put her to sleep tonight,” says Angela, while looking at the back of Asuka’s throat. Seemingly satisfied with whatever she sees, Angela pulls back and Asuka immediately closes her mouth making an ugly face at the feeling.

 

Angela pulls out an otoscope, moving to examine Asuka’s ears, all while explaining in a slow even tone what she’s doing for Asuka, “This lets me see the inside of your ear. This way I can be sure your ears are healthy and now I know what they look like when they are healthy in case they get sick.”

 

“Da ear sick?” Asuka’s small voice asks.

 

Angela looks like she’s going to burst, with how wide her smile is before she gets it under control, “No, your ear is not sick,” she says clearly, “It’s a very healthy ear!”

 

“I see?” says Asuka, sounding excited at the prospect.

 

“Well...I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” Angela disposes of the covering on the otoscope and place a clean one on it, “I’ll  hold, and you look,” she says sternly, making sure Asuka understands. Asuka nods eagerly and Angela leans down, holding the otoscope in her ear carefully. Asuka looks through the opening, one eye crunched closed comically and tongue sticking out the side of her lip. It’s an amusing sight, for sure.

 

After a few seconds Asuka pulls back announcing loudly, “Gross!” which makes Angela laugh.

 

Angela listens to Asuka’s heart next, who cooperates only after being allowed to listen to both Angela’s and her father’s heart beat. Then she tests her reflexes, which makes Asuka giggle.

 

Finished with her physical examination, she turns to Hanzo, the warmth in her eyes fading and a cool professional mask overtaking her, “Is she up to date on her shots?”

 

“Yes- other than this season’s flu shot.”

 

“I see, do you have proof of these shots? I need to be sure none are missing,” Angela says, marking things on her notepad. Hanzo digs in his pack and pulls out several papers, “I see, thank you, I will contact you if any of her shots are missing or I feel she needs any boosters. For now, we will give her flu shot at the end of this session.”

 

Hanzo nods.

 

“Is she allergic to anything?” Angela continues, reading off the sheet in front of her.

 

“Nothing that we’ve encountered thus far.”

 

“There are many allergens to be exposed with so many different people in the area and such heavy travel at a young age- I’ll schedule Asuka for a round of allergy testing. Better safe than sorry, as the case may be,” Angela clicks he pen several times and then she pulls out her communicator, typing something in quickly. An alert dings on Hanzo’s communicator, indicating a request for a meeting, “She’s of healthy weight and height, her reflexes are fine, and she seems to be a perfectly healthy young girl. Now. Lets just do the flu shot and we can be on our way.”

 

Asuka is swinging her legs back and forth on the risen exam table but when she see the needle she freezes and hides herself in Hanzo’s arm. Hanzo lifts it, wrapping it around her.

 

“Doctor Ziegler,” he begins, “I am also due for a flu shot, if you would not mind?” his eyes never leave Asuka’s whimpering form.

 

“But of course, Mister Shimada,” says Angela, who collects a larger dose for an adult rather than a small child. Hanzo murmurs in Japanese to Asuka until she’s watching Angela insert the needle into Hanzo’s bicep, frozen as it goes in, and then an audible sigh of relief when it’s removed without even a flinch from Hanzo and swiftly replaced with gauze. She crawls into Hanzo’s lap and looks at Angela head on, thrusting her arm out like a lamb to the slaughter. Both Hanzo and Angela do their best to take the matter seriously.

 

With swift efficiency, Angela inserts the needle and Asuka doesn’t whimper even a little. With the deed done, Angela presses gauze to the small hole and rifles through her drawers for some bandaids. She pulls some out with flowers, some with tye-dye, and some with dinosaurs. She seems caught between the flowers and the dinosaurs, taking both in seriously and giving them each the due consideration they deserve. Eventually she takes one of each, pointing to the flower sticker and then at Hanzo.

 

Amused, Angela, does as directed and puts the flower sticker on Hanzo and the Dinosaur sticker on Asuka. Happily, Asuka wiggles off her father’s lap and skips to the mirror hanging on the wall, flexing her biceps and making the dinosaurs dance. Behind her, head just cut off, is Hanzo who, smirking, flexes behind her. Asuka scowls and whirls around and Hanzo’s eyes are wide and innocent.

 

“Tou-san!” She grumbles. A smile twitches at Hanzo’s lips.

 

“Well, a sweetie for the sweetie, as promised,” Angela interrupts, handling Asuka a lollipop.

 

“Itadaku-”

 

“Not before dinner,” Hanzo says firmly, right as Asuka was about to rip the paper off the sweet, “You know the rules.”

 

Asuka sighs but nods, giving the sweet a forlorn look to rival the ages. Hanzo stands after her, and turns to the Angela, bowing, “Thank you, Doctor Ziegler,”

 

Seeing her father do so, Asuka bows as well, though lower and clumsier, and she repeats what he says, stumbling over Angela’s name. Together, the two of them walk out of Angela’s office. Angela sighs, falling into her chair, closing her eyes.

 

Her mind is in turmoil. The part of her that remembers blood and viscera of ten years ago still rages on. But more than his body- she remembers Genji's broken heart and mind. How angry and hurt and heartbroken he was for so long. It’s a sharp contrast- the way he feels now to how Genji felt when she last saw him. She wonders what changed.

 

And her own feelings- she knows she can be professional. She’s saved the lives of terrible people before. But it’s always harder when the matter is close to home. Seeing Hanzo interact with Asuka, part of her is touched- it’s obvious how much Hanzo loves the girl and Angela has seen more bad parents than good ones as a doctor. But the larger part of her is enraged- where was this softness, this love, ten years ago? What made Genji less deserving of Hanzo’s love?

 

Logically, she knows it’s never that simple.

 

(She remembers- an explosion, her heart in tatters as her only family lies dead around her. She’d been so close to the explosion that her hearing still isn’t the same. Then: a desperate wish gone wrong. Good intentions gone sour.

 

They call her an angel but the Devil has more than twelve apostles.)

 

Her breathing slows, her head droops, and, for a time, she doesn’t feel the way her sins crawl on her back.

 

* * *

 

 

Somewhere between Angela’s office and the rooms that have been assigned to Asuka and Hanzo, Asuka had demanded to be picked up and Hanzo had obliged. It is nearly time for dinner, but they’re both jetlagged and tired- Hanzo had already sent Genji a message with an apology for missing dinner. Asuka never sleeps on plane rides- most likely because Hanzo hates them and she picks up on his anxiety regarding them.

 

She mumbles, wanting to go to bed, but Hanzo shushes her, taking her to the attached bathroom instead. They’d been in Japan for the past few months and Hanzo had enjoyed the familiar bathing habits of how he’d grown up, but Asuka had grown up all over the world, after the Shimada found them the first time, and had no particular fondness for Japanese bathing.

 

There’s no tub in the bathroom which makes Hanzo wistful for a moment before he shifts Asuka in his arms and places her on her feet. She scowls at the shower.

 

“But father, my bandaid will get wet!” She says in Japanese, voice pleading.

 

“The bleeding has stopped and the water will clean it,” Hanzo replies patiently, undoing the lavender bow in her hair. He motions for her to lift her arms, which she does and he helps her wiggle out of her shirt. Smirking, he tickles her sides for a moment, causing a peel of laughter to come from Asuka.

 

Hanzo moves to the shower while Asuka finishes undressing herself, adjusting the water temperature. The bathroom might be cramped but the water heats quickly. There’s two small bottles on a shelf in the stall and a small box- miniature shampoo and conditioner it seems as well as soap. Courtesy of Genji, perhaps?

 

Hanzo checks the shampoo and conditioner for dyes, just in case. There are none, thankfully.

 

Hanzo pretends not to be able to sense Asuka sneaking up behind him, revenge for the tickling, most likely. But right before she strikes, he whirls around, lifting her up above his head to her shrieks of joy and plops her in the shower.

 

“Father!” She shrieks, “I wasn’t ready!”

 

“Always be prepared,” he replies imperiously, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

 

She pouts and turns her back to Hanzo. Hanzo takes the little shampoo and squeeze a dollop in his hands, lathering them together. He wrinkles his nose at the overly strong scent - he’ll get something more gentle for Asuka when they go out to town for supplies. Asuka steps out of the spray and Hanzo lathers up her hair. Where this a bath, he’d help her rinse it as well, tilting her head back to keep the suds out of her eyes. As it is, he taps on her back to urge her back into the spray of water and runs his hands through her hair to help get the soap out. The same routine with the conditioner, and then Hanzo hands Asuka the soap as she’s taken up the habit of washing her own body to Hanzo’s slight melancholy- she’s grown up faster than Hanzo could have imagined.

 

Asuka makes more bubbles than strictly necessary with the little bar of soap and Hanzo bemoans the fact that his daughter who approximately an fifth of his size has successfully used up half their only bar of soap on her first shower. Asuka hands the bar back to Hanzo, fumbling with it as it tries to escape it’s fast approaching death, and Hanzo lathers his hands up much more prudently and  efficiently before soaping up Asuka’s upper back.

 

His hands are so big compare to her but she’s growing fast- Hanzo remembers the day she was born, her tiny fingers grasping his one, barely wrapping around it. Her first bath in their apartment sink, Saki taking pictures with her phone cooing all the while-

 

Hanzo cuts that thought off. Saki is dead. Has been for over four years. And Asuka needs him to remain strong for her.

 

Hanzo taps Asuka back into the spray and she goes happily, rinsing off the last of the suds.

 

Hanzo looks for a towel and finds a stiff looking white one on a rod to the side. He reaches in and shuts off the water, to Asuka’s displeasure who starts whining about the cold immediately. Hanzo wraps her in the blanket and lifts her up, cutting off her protests as she laughs again. Hanzo can’t help but laugh with her.

 

He has her stand on the bed so she doesn’t need to stand on the linoleum tile- Hanzo will have to invest in a mat or more likely given their location, a small rug as Asuka’s feet get cold easily. He digs through their pack leaning on a wall to the side. Most of the items in it are Asuka’s- Hanzo having only one kyudo-gi, two shirts, two pants, and a few pairs of underwear with one set of night clothes. It’s cold in the room- so Hanzo picks out the long sleeved night outfit for Asuka and a pair of fuzzy socks- light purple of course. The pajamas have little pachimari on them. Asuka is jumping on the bed, Hanzo can hear, but she stops as soon as Hanzo turns around, all wide-eyed innocence.

 

Hanzo raises a brow and she flushes a little, embarrassed. He doesn’t scold her beyond that- he knows the temptation, given they’ve been on futons for the past few months and this is a strange change. He helps her dress and then sits behind her on the bed with a comb.

 

There’s quiet between them as he brushes Asuka’s hair. He thinks that might be his fault- he’s a quiet man by nature. He never hoped his daughter to be like him, but without Saki here and with little experience of a loving family, he fumbles often. Asuka is kind, however, and doesn’t wince even when he catches on a tangle. He brushes her hair a few extra times, taking longer than necessary.

 

He shakes himself out of his wistful state and stands heading towards the bathroom, telling Asuka, “I will return shortly.”

 

He performs nightly routines and showers briskly, taking much less care with himself then he had with Asuka. He comes out dressed in his night clothes and Asuka has the hair brush in hand. Smiling gently, Hanzo sits on the floor by the bed and Asuka carefully brushes through his hair.

 

She’d pouted when he’d first gotten it shaved but quickly grew fond of the texture of his shaved head, calling his head a fuzzy melon. Asuka isn’t as gentle as Hanzo, but she tries to be and Hanzo doesn’t make a sound when she’s too rough on his hair.

 

“Finished, father! You are very pretty now!”

 

“I am always pretty,” Hanzo replies imperiously, “I am the prettiest in the land- look I have this flower bandaid to prove it!” and he shows off the bandaid to a giggling Asuka.

 

“No father! I am the prettiest in the land! And the bravest and strongest too!”

 

“So talented at such a young age!” Hanzo replies, voice light, “But you won’t remain any of those things if you don’t brush your teeth!”

 

Asuka groans but goes to the bathroom and brushes her teeth. Hanzo takes the opportunity to discretely check the bed for bedbugs, or at least that’s how it would look. In reality, he’s scanning for bugs of a different sort. He finds two- audio, no video, but he leaves them be.

 

“Do not just run the water Asu-chan, I know you are not brushing!”

 

Asuka doesn’t reply, but she does start actually brushing her teeth. She returns shortly. And, knowing routine, crawls into bed closest to the wall. Hanzo turns off the lights and follows after her, covering them both with the blankets. There’s only one pillow, so Hanzo give it to Asuka. They’d likely expected them to sleep in two separate rooms. Hanzo will have to get a second pillow. It had taken him time to get used to bed sharing- his parents had not done so with either Genji or Hanzo. Saki had been horrified to hear this, explaining how she shared her parents bed until she was nearly ten. Sharing a cramped futon in a rundown apartment with his partner and child had kept him up for months. Now he can’t imagine falling asleep without Asuka hogging most of the futon or bed with her 110 centimeter body flailing like a starfish.

 

Hanzo pulls the covers up and Asuka burrows her face into the pillow, eyes glinting in the glow of the bathroom nightlight she insists on.

 

“Are we safe here, father?” she asks, quietly.

 

Hanzo thinks for a moment and says, “No, but we are not in danger either.”

 

She seems satisfied with that response and is quiet for a moment and then she asks, with a yawn in her voice, “A rolling acorn?”

 

“Are you not tired of that one yet, Asu-chan?” Hanzo aks, already resigning himself to his fate.

 

“Never!” she replies.

 

Hanzo makes a show of sighing, and then opens his mouth and sings, voice deep and strong:

 

* * *

 

 

 _An acorn rolled down and down,_ _  
_ _He suddenly fell into a pond._

 _Then came the loaches,_ _  
_ _Hi boy! Come play with us!_

  
_The acorn enjoyed playing with them._  
_But he soon began to cry,_  
_I want to go back to the mountain._ _  
The loaches didn't know what to do._

 

* * *

 

 

He sings it once, slower than the children’s song normally calls for, and then again, quieter. Asuka is asleep by the time he finishes it the third time. He watches her for a long moment, thinking of the winding paths fate has led him on, led them on. He hopes this is the right decision. He hopes Asuka will be happy here. He hopes the Asuka will pick up English, should they need to run again into one of the neighboring European countries where, while it may not always be the main language, would at least be more widely spoken than their native Japanese.

 

Beyond all else, he hopes that he can can keep his family safe.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Notes to go with this chapter! 
> 
> The various Japan-glish and other language funnies: I've decided to go with a shifting perspective here and switching POVs, so depending on the current POV will determine what languages I translate to English entirely, which I just say "they're speaking :insert language here:", and which I say the romanji or just the language itself (according to whoever I find willing to translate/google translate [which btw, anyone speak latin amerian spanish and willing to help a buddy out?]) 
> 
> "To Be father and mother both..." a reference to Into the Woods because I love that play (watch the play version- the whole thing is on youtube!) 
> 
> "The Devil has more than 12 apostles." A Swedish proverb I found fitting given Angela's situation + her devil skin. She's more similar to Hanzo than she realizes.
> 
> "Sins crawling on her back...": Undertale reference because I'm trash
> 
> Hanzo's insistence that Asuka learns English: this will be explained in detail further on (and was briefly mentioned here) but they are on the run. The more languages they know the better. But he basically doesn't want her learning too many at once because he doesn't wanna confuse her. they started English a few months ago, in the story's timeline, and he wants her to at least be able to speak basics.
> 
> Happy Flower Friends: inspured by Crying Breakfast Friends of Steven Universe. It's in spanish because Im learning spanish by watching SU in spanish. And also because A) Gibralter is currently attempting to leave the UK since Brexit and join Spain and B) Gibralter is so ridiculously close to Spain already that it'd be more surprising if their cartoons weren't in spanish despite technically being English. 
> 
> Bathing/Sleeping together: I'm doing approximately Hella research on this fic (I'm going to the library to look up anthropology textbooks on Japan after work either today or tomorrow) and according to research bathing and sleeping together is very common in Japan until the children are between 5-10 years old. More commonly, it's with the mother. But as Hanzo is a single father, and because I feel like he would want to be part of his child's life anyway, he does it instead. There's no bath on the base because I couldn't justify a military base having large baths for soldiers. 
> 
> References to Hanzo and Genji's childhoods: Look me in the eye and tell me those boys were treated with love and affection and I will laugh in your face. 
> 
> 110 centimeter: in the future- everything is metric system and it is Glorious. For the plebs who don't do metric- that's about 3"8. I picked the average for Japanese 5 year olds. 
> 
> The Rolling Acorn: Japanese children song that I found. Not actually a lullaby- there aren't many of those and from what I've read singing children to sleep actually wasn't really done in Japan till fairly recently and still isn't very common today. But Ill get into why Hanzo does it later. (you can find it and children songs/lullabies from all over the world here: http://www.mamalisa.com/?p=820&t=es&c=85 )


	3. Early Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asuka dreams of a memory and eats breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many comments! So many kudos! I try to only reply to questions or bit of advice so i don't skew the comments for the fic, but I appreciate every single one you guys send! They all make me very, very happy! I was so inspired that I even wrote this chapter earlier than I was planning to!

_ Father said to stay and hide and no matter what don’t peak. He said it’s like Hide and Seek but Very Important and that she must be very very quiet and very very still. She can hear them fighting. The loud grunting, the bad words, the wet gurgling noises. There are slots in the door: she could look, but she doesn’t. She has before. She knows what father fighting looks like.  _

 

_ She hides, and she’s quiet. Time passes slowly in the closet. She presses her forehead to her knees and wraps herself up in a hug. Asuka doesn’t sing outloud, or hum, or make a sound but she recites them in her head. _

 

Ho, ho, fireflies come!   
Over there the water bitter   
Over here the water is sweet

 

_ She can’t remember the words past that, she needs father to recite it again. She’ll ask him tonight, after they run and find a new place to hide together. The sound of fighting has stopped but Asuka knows better than to leave yet- knows father needs to make sure everyone is gone. Over there the water is bitter, over here the water is sweet- what comes next? What comes next? She can’t remember.  _

 

_ She hears father approach, he doesn’t open the door. That’s not the rule. She needs to listen to what he says next, the tiny knife clenched tightly in her hand.  _

 

_ “Asu-chan,” father says, he sounds tired, “my little bird, take flight.”  _

 

_ Asuka bursts out the closet and into her father’s open arms. He scoops her up and presses her head into his shoulder, “Don’t look, little bird,” he says.  _

 

_ She doesn’t. They walk away, out into the night bringing nothing with them. Starting over from the beginning. _

 

* * *

 

 

Asuka awakes, blankets in tangles around her as father walks around the room, unpacking the things they can leave behind if they need to leave quickly. The rest stays in the bags. The bed feels weird. Asuka doesn’t like it and wonders if her Uncle knows where they can find a futon. 

 

She sits up, mumbling in Japanese, “Good morning, papa,” looking around the room now that she’s less tired. There’s the bed she’s sitting on in the corner. A dresser on the wall opposite of the door and then the bathroom. The walls are grey and boring and the ceiling looks like popcorn. She wrinkles her nose at the linoleum floor. That’s going to be cold. Especially since she kicked off her socks in the middle of the night. 

 

“Good morning, Asu-chan,” father replies, digging through their pack. He takes out a yellow shirt with a green frog head wearing headphones, jeans, panties and socks. He places them on the bed and Asuka starts getting dressed. 

 

“Do we wear shoes inside here papa?” she asks, wiggling into her pants. 

 

“Yes we do,” he replies, not sounding fond of the idea. Asuka wrinkles her nose- it’s gross to wear shoes inside. 

 

“How long will we stay here?” Asuka asks, slipping on her socks. Shirt is always last, father helps her get into it. 

 

“I do not know. Hopefully a few months. If we’re lucky, a year,” He approaches her and she lifts her arms up to have her sleep shirt removed and her frog shirt put on. It’s big on her, almost a dress. And the short sleeves on a big kid come down to almost her elbows. Father usually gets her big shirts so she can grow into them. He sits on the bed behind her with a brush to neaten her hair. 

 

“Will Uncle Genji come with us?” She asks, curious. 

 

Father is quiet for a long moment, brushing her hair. He reaches in front of her with two pieces of ribbon- one green like the frog on her shirt and one a bright red. She thinks for a moment and chooses the red. 

 

His fingers pull together some hair on the side of her head, tying the ribbon into a neat bow. Asuka asked once why they don’t just get some clip on bows- father responded saying anything worth doing was worth doing right. 

 

“I do not know,” father responds. He sounds sad. 

 

Asuka turns around and take the comb. Father obligingly turns around and Asuka gets on her knees so she can brush his hair. She misses the silver hairs he had, like moonlight. When she’d said that father had looked confused and said his hair wasn’t yellow. Asuka thinks her father is silly sometimes. She brushes his hair back, trying to gather it into one hand. Father hands her a hair tie, but she points to the assorted ribbons instead, pointing to a dark blue one. Father sighs, but hands her the ribbon. 

 

Her bows aren’t as pretty as her father’s but she thinks they’re nice. It’s a little floppy though, like bunny ears. Some of the hair falls forward in front of father’s face which he brushes to the side. He stands then, and Asuka stands with him, searching for her shoes. She finds them and slips them on, wrinkling her nose. She still thinks it’s gross to wear shoes inside. Can’t they at least switch to inside shoes? 

 

She looks up at father, about to ask as much but he’s already at the door waiting for her so she trots after him. The door opens and together they walk out. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

They walk around a bit and Asuka thinks her father might be lost. She’s sure they’ve been down this hallway already. But all the hallways look the same so it’s hard to say. 

 

“Papa,” Asuka says in what she believes to be a very patient voice- she learned it from father after all, “We are lost.”

 

“We are not lost,” says father, “Trust your papa.” 

 

Asuka watches as they pass by a door with a drawing of a smiling bunny on it. They’ve passed that door twice now. 

 

“Well howdy there neighbors,” Says a new voice, “you lookin’ for the kitchens?” 

 

Asuka immediately hides behind her father’s legs at the strange man. He wears a strange hat and a plaid shirt with jeans and boots that jingle. 

 

Her father replies to the man in English as the man had spoken and the man joins them in their walk along the long halls. Asuka keeps her father between herself and the man. The man says something and seems to be addressing her, but Asuka isn’t quite sure what he said. 

 

“He said, ‘my name is Jesse McCree, good to meet you’,” her father says in Japanese, “and this is all I am translating for you, time to practice.” 

 

Asuka pouts and peaks around her father. The man has a beard like her father but it’s messy. Asuka wonder if he’ll let her brush it. 

 

She points to herself, “Asuka!” She says. Father pokes her shoulder so she continues, “meeting good!” 

 

McCree says something, but it’s too quick for her to catch. Her father laughs though so she smiles. Soon, she can smell food and her stomach lets out a loud rumble. McCree lets out a laugh and says, slowly and clearly, “You hungry?” 

 

She nods with a smile and McCree asks, “How old are you?” 

 

“Five and half.” 

 

“She has been five and a half for eight months now,” her father says. Asuka understands the words but doesn’t understand why McCree laughs. 

 

They come up to the kitchens and Asuka immediately takes a step back when the doors open, hiding behind her father. There’s a big man with white hair, Doctor Ziegler, from yesterday, her uncle, an omnic...so many people to talk to at once! The room is quiet for a moment and then several greetings are called out. McCree walks in first and her father walks in after, Asuka trailing behind. Some things are said to her father but she’s too nervous to really pay attention to them. Father sets her down at one of the chairs but she grabs his shirt before he can get too far, glancing nervously around the table. 

 

Father kneels before her and says, slowly and in English, “What would you like to eat?” 

 

She thinks for a moment. She wants rice and eggs but it doesn’t look like anyone’s made any rice. So she says, “Toast and egg, please.” 

 

Father nods, asking something off McCree who waves his hand in the air dismissively. Father bows slightly to him and goes to the fridge, pulling out the eggs. Nervously, Asuka looks around the table. Uncle is sitting across from her and waves when she sees him. Doctor Ziegler smiles. The big man smiles too and lets out a loud greeting. The omnic next to her uncle waves as well. She waves back around the table. 

 

Nervous, but remembering her manners, she points to herself and says, “Asuka”. 

 

“I am Wilhelm Reinhardt!” the large man booms out, “It is good to see such young blood running about!” 

 

Asuka looks around, trying to find the running blood. And then she looks back to Reinhardt, confused who only laughs. 

 

“This is my teacher, Zenyatta,” Uncle says.

 

Zenyatta nods at her, “Greetings,” he says. 

 

“Teach school?” she asks. She had thought uncle too old for school. 

 

Zenyatta chuckles, it sounds a little strange, not human, but nice. Asuka likes it, “No child, not in a school. In life.” 

 

Asuka nods like she understands. Grown ups have all sorts of weird jobs anyway. And uncle seemed to be part robot so maybe Zenyatta teaches him how to be a robot? That sounds cool, “Teach me?” she asks. 

 

“Gladly, little one,” replies Zenyatta, sounding pleased. 

 

Father approaches then, with a small plate. Two eggs with big orange yellow middles and a piece of toast. He places a large glass of water in front of her too. Papa sits next to her with his own plate. She says her thanks for the food, and shimmies the egg onto the toast, munching into it happily and kicking her legs under the table. 

 

It’s quiet, but it’s not silent. Father doesn’t eat his food, but he’s never very hungry so she isn’t surprised. He just drinks coffee, quietly looking around the table. He looks at uncle a lot. Asuka knows he hasn’t seen him since before she was born, so she’s not surprised. 

 

When she finishes she’s she feels content to watch the others around her, observing them. She tries to figure out what they’re talking about, but most of them talk to fast, and they all sound very different. 

 

“Are you still hungry, Asu-chan?” Father asks. 

 

“No Papa,” she replies, kicking her legs happily, “thank you.”

 

Father nods and then begins to eat. He’s never hungry at first-father says it’s because your stomach shrinks when you get older. 

 

She looks to Zenyatta, a sudden burning question in her, but she isn’t sure how to ask, so instead she stares at him. Zenyatta turns at stares back tilting his head to the side. 

 

“Yes?” he asks.

 

“It is rude to stare, Asu-chan” 

 

“What robot like?” she blurts. 

 

“Asu-chan” her father sighs, “Not everyone wants to answer your questions.”

 

“It is quite alright,” replies Zenyatta, sounding amused, “What is it like to be a human?” 

 

She furrows her brow, not understanding the question at first, looking at her father who sighs and repeats it in Japanese. She put her hand on her chin and furrows her brow, thinking. 

 

“She has your thinking face, brother,” Uncle says, sounding amused, “She even has your scowl.” 

 

“Hurts,” she says slowly, thinking, trying to get the words right, “and happy. Fun! And sad.” 

 

“And what helps you when you feel sad? Or hurt?” 

 

“Papa!” 

 

“It is the same for Omnics.” 

 

“...Papa makes Omnics happy?” 

 

There’s a round of chuckles from the table, including from her father, but Asuka is only confused. 

 

“No no,” Zenyatta says, amusement in his voice, “Omnics feel hurt and happiness, experience fun and sadness. And family and friends make it better.” 

 

Asuka nods slowly, gears turning in her mind. She put her hand over her heart, “Same... Tamashī?” she inquires, unsure of the word in English. 

 

“Same ‘soul’,” Uncle says softly.

 

“Soul,” Asuka repeats dutifully.

 

“Yes,” Zenyatta says, fondness in his tone, “We have the same soul.” 

 

She looks to her father, seeking confirmation that this is true. Her father looks at her with a smile on his face, sipping from his mug of coffee. He nods at her silent inquiry. 

 

Well, since father said it, it must be true. 

 

“You have changed, brother,” Uncle says, curious.

 

Father places his mug of coffee down. Asula stares at it, wondering what it tastes like. 

 

“As have you,” Father replies. Well, he seems busy enough now that he’s talking with Uncle...surely he won’t notice if she takes a sip? 

 

She looks around the table as discreetly as she can. McCree catches her though and raises one of his eyebrows at her. She glances furtively at her father, then the coffee mug, then back at McCree with a finger to her mouth, shushing him. He hides a laugh in his fist, but nods. 

 

“So Shimada, what kinda places you two been?” McCree asks loudly. She will have to thank McCree later, after her mission is complete. 

 

She edges her seat a bit closer to fathers and then stops, looking elsewhere at the table when he glances at her.

 

“We have been many places. Numbani most recently. I was not fond of it,” Father takes a sip of his coffee and places it down next to him, closer to Asuka than it was before. He grabs some sugar and stirs it in, along with some milk. 

 

“Oh? What about it didn’t you like? Most say it’s a paradise.” 

 

Asuka edges closer, than pauses again, this time looking towards Doctor Ziegler, who’s looking at her at smiling. 

 

“They have grown complacent in their peace, believing that none would dare attack them. Such thought leads to mass casualties when attacks inevitably happen.” 

 

“That’s a mighty sour way of lookin at it,” McCree replies.

 

“I never claimed to be sweet.” 

 

“Nah, but you sure do show it.” 

 

“I have no clue what you mean.”

 

“Sure you don’t.” 

 

Satisfied that her father is sufficiently distracted by McCree, Asuka nabs the mug in her hand and swiftly takes a big gulp of the warm liquid. It’s...okay. She doesn’t really see why father drinks it every day. Or adults in general. She puts the mug back where it was and scoots her chair back, content in her success. 

 

Her father gets up a few minutes later and dumps the coffee out, pouring himself a new mug. 

 

“Something wrong with your coffee, sugar?” McCree asks, sounding as though he’d told the worlds best joke. Asuka is confused, mostly because her father’s name is not sugar. 

 

“Nothing at all,” Father responds loftily, sitting down next to her once more, “I simply desired a fresh cup,” he doesn’t put milk or sugar into this one. 

 

“Of course,” McCree responds, “How silly of me, to assume otherwise.” 

 

“You are forgiven.”

 

“Mighty kind of ya.” 

 

Adults, Asuka decides, are weird. But her father seems happy enough talking to grown ups, so she resigns herself to the strangeness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asuka is pretty well adjusted, all things considered, but she is still on the run for good reason. 
> 
> Notes for this chapter! 
> 
> the little song Asuka was thinking to herself was a children's song from the northern part of the mainland of Japan. Part of it is in a dialect, actually! Whenever they visit Japan, given the nature of the Shimada clan, I'm sure they never stay anywhere very long and I'm sure they try never to stay the same place twice given how dangerous it is for them to be there. During her nightmare they were staying somewhere in the northern mainland and had likely heard the children singing it. 
> 
> Shoes- No shoes inside! You've been walking around outside your feet touching god knows what and you wanna bring all that inside??? gross! People in Japan have slippers you may wear inside-some places even have separate slippers to wear in the bathroom (though be careful not to then walk into the general living area with gross bathroom slippers). Honestly, same tho. I hate it when people where their shoes inside my house please take them off I just cleaned. 
> 
> Toast and Eggs/rice: pretty common quick breakfast in Japan. Asuka's all about immediate gratification when she's hungry. Would she like grilled fish? yes! does she want to wait for it? She's five what do you think?
> 
> Zenyatta teaching- *cracks knuckles* okay! So, Zenyatta is a monk of Nepal, but Genji calls him a teacher. But Japanese has approximately hella words for a monk depending on their vocation, training, area, when they became a monk, religion, and who in particular is referring to them! And while it appears that many of Zenyatta's and Mondatta's teaching, attire, and location of their temple draws inspiration from Buddhism like hell am I gonna use a Buddhist term when I am very much not Buddhist and am far more likely to fuck it up terribly then not-so, better to have a lil funny confused moment for lil Asuka. 
> 
> I would like to note- I DO plan on drawing from Buddhism to help give shape to Zenyatta's beliefs and practices as a nod to the references Blizzard put in there, but in the end I've decided since I'm going all in on this fic anyway might as well fucking help develop the belief system Blizzard woefully undercooked, per usual. So suspect to see similarities to some Buddhist practices but differences as in the end I am essentially developing this from scratch. 
> 
> Papa v Father: uuuugh you guys have no clue how hard it is to decide how to address this. Okay, so, unlike english where you gotta dozen different words for mom and dad, there seems to only be different words depending on who you're talking to in Japanese. IE when talking to ABOUT YOUR father you would say "chichi" most likely, otherwise you'd refer to him (in person and to him) as outou-san or tou-san. HOWEVER- Japanese, like every language, borrows words from other languages! And as Asuka is learning English anyway it would not be uncommon for her to call Hanzo "Papa,"! This fic is in third person limited- meaning we follow one person's perspective at a time so when she addresses Hanzo as father, imagine it as her speaking of Hanzo to you, the audience!
> 
> ...it makes sense to me at least hahaha.
> 
> Also if I'm completely wrong on any of this feel free to correct me ^^;
> 
> Why coffee and not tea? Guys...I know Hanzo is like a living breathing stereotype of a traditional Japanese man....but....Japan...has coffee....And Hanzo has been on the run for like 10 years you think he's gonna be picky about his caffeine? hell no. 
> 
> And finally...I couldn't go three damn chapters without these two gay nerds flirting. But flirting doesn't mean theyre gonna jump in the sack together just yet! I added a new tag in case you didn't notice- Slow Burn. And I'm gonna live up to it!


	4. Flapping Your Wings To Cause A Typhoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a different opinion on where it begins- on what set off the chain of events that would change the entire world. Genji thinks it is the moment he offered his brother a second chance. Winston? He thinks it's the recall. Jesse is partial to Overwatch being revealed to the public once more in a rather explosive manner. 
> 
> When asked to think of when it all started, all Hanzo can see is a purple door, the eyes of an old woman finding hope again, and a teddy bear at a war memorial, untouched, as though waiting for tiny hands to pick it up one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It Begins.

No one is really sure to make of the two new Shimadas in their midst. Two weeks worth of trying to get to know them as turned up very little other than that Hanzo is a very versatile sniper and Asuka a very quiet and secretive child.

 

After the first week the three leaders of Overwatch reviewed what the bugs had recorded. The only thing of any surprise to them was that Asuka and Hanzo shared a bed. They heard quiet conversations, songs, and stories in japanese, which were translated dutifully by Athena, but unless there's an advanced code between the two of them, nothing they say in the room is incriminating. Hanzo communicator and datpad came back clean of any suspicious behavior. Some numbers he's called can be traced to less than savory individuals- information brokers, bounty hunters, vigilantes- but nothing out of the ordinary for an assassin on the run and no one affiliated with Talon or any other terrorist group. Mostly- his datapad is full of simple recipes, children's songs, maps, drawings of various skill levels, and language programs. There were a few coded messages, which Jesse decoded- that turned out to be assassinations. A cross check of the times, dates, and locations given revealed a wide range of hits. None, notably, could claim to be any sort of innocent. Angela and Winston disapproved, but the way Jesse saw it, justice wasn't going to dispense itself. And the law wasn't doing anything about the targets- might as well make some coin making the world a better place.

 

The two grudgingly agreed- it'd be hypocritical to allow Jesse to stay and force Hanzo to leave.

 

Of the people to warm up to the pair- only Wilhelm and Hana seem to have made much effort and, surprising only to those who don't know him well, Torbjorn as well. Wilhelm had taken to lowering his voice and speaking softly to the easily startled child, who takes to the change like a duck to water. He tells her stories of warrior princesses facing mighty beasts which she enjoys greatly, and is endlessly patient when she speaks, correcting her gently when needed. Hana seems to greatly appreciate not being the youngest on base anymore and enjoys having someone to watch cartoons with (though she draws the line at Happy Flower Friends, to Asuka’s disappointment) and she'd offered to let Asuka watch her stream games- to which Hanzo firmly said no to, for both the times the streams are usually held and due to their usually violent nature. Three days into their stay on the base Torbjorn showed up to their door with a box filled with toys, to Asuka’s utter delight. Hanzo had been astonished at the kindness and attempted to refuse- Torbjorn had gruffly said that his own tykes had outgrown them anyway and that children need toys. As is the way of stubborn old fools- neither of them pointed out that some of the toys were obviously brand new and some even hand made.

 

It is perhaps not surprising then that the person who warmed up to Hanzo himself the most quickly, besides Genji, is Torbjorn. Wherever Asuka is, Hanzo is as well: keeping an ever watchful eye on his daughter. Most focus their attention on Asuka, ignoring the sharp eyes and solemn stance of the older man in favor of the bright eyes and cheerful if quiet disposition of Asuka. Even Genji focuses more on Asuka than Hanzo, sending mixed messages to the rest of the crew about how to interact with the man. Torbjorn is the one who sits next to Hanzo- silently the first few days and it is Torbjorn that starts to offer his own stories of his own children- until the two of them are fondly swapping stories of little tykes who grow up too fast.

 

They don't talk about much other than their children. But as their children are obviously the most important people in their lives, it is perhaps enough for both of them to talk to someone who understands that kind of love. Torbjorn is well known for holding grudges- he doesn't let go of anger or mistrust easily. When the three leaders of the new overwatch pull him into a meeting to hear what he has to say on Hanzo he merely shrugs and says, “I'm not proud of the man I was before my children either. Nothin’ changes a man like becoming a father- and that Hanzo there's a good one.”

 

So, with no evidence that Hanzo is going to sell them out, training sessions that prove Hanzo to be an asset with nearly any combination of team members, and the support of one of their most un-trusting and stubborn members, it is decided that Hanzo will join them on a non-critical mission.

 

Which leads them to this moment.

 

“Mr. Shimada,” Winston says as patiently as possible, “you can not bring Ms. Asuka with you on this mission. It is no place for a child.”

 

“Asuka is well behaved,” Hanzo retorts stubbornly, “I will not leave her where I can not protect her.”

 

“You'll be puttin’ her in more danger by bringing her,” Jesse points out, “we can protect her here,”

 

“I have walked your facilities: I have found five possible paths for an assassin to take and remain undetected and two should they choose to come in force.”

 

“Five? And here I only knew about three of them,” Jesse muses before putting his hands up in defense at Angela's sharp glare, “what I'm being honest!” He turns back to Hanzo, “look, point out the routes you mentioned: like I said it seems we knew about most of them already. No fortress is impenetrable but it's better to have obvious paths that we know about then more well hidden ones we don't.”

 

“You purposefully leave weaknesses in your defense?” Hanzo asks, incredulous.

 

“Well, folk are more likely to take the easy way when they think they can get away with it than the hard way. If we know where they might attack we can better counter their movements,” Jesse points out, “Genji told us about your trips to Hanamura: if they'd known what path you were gonna take it woulda been a lot harder for you to break in now wouldn't it?”

 

Hanzo scowls by seems to think on this for a long moment before nodding. Jesse smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes: he pulls up a holomap of the base instead. He gestures loosely with a hand towards the map and Hanzo steps forward.

 

“Here and here,” Hanzo points out to the west side, “a sewer system that opens to one of your stoage units and a ventilation staff sturdy enough to hold an assassin,” the points light up on the map.

 

“Knew about em,” Jesse says, “Ventilation has heating rods in the walls and the sewer has an emergency drain to flush out anyone.”

 

Hanzo nods then points to the south side, “An abandoned cargo hold with no cameras- it appears to have not been used in many years.”

 

“Yup,” Jesse says, “pointed that one out a few months back. Pressure sensors under the floor.”

 

Hanzo points to a dumb waiter in the kitchen and it lights up, “This leads to your vehicles which are loosely protected: it would be a simple manner to sneak in.”

 

“Weight limit,” Jesse retorts with a smirk, “anything over 20 pounds sends an alert.”

 

“And a bomb?”

 

Jesse scratches his head at that, “Got me there, better close that off till we get some sensors in there that can detect that sorta thing.”

 

Hanzo nods then points to the side closest to the ocean: the part that drops off into the sea. He highlights two points of entry- one of which stubbornly refuses to light up which makes Hanzo scowl, “that one,” he gestures to the one lit up,” is another ventilation shaft easily accessible by anyone with the proper gear and that one-” pointing to the one that refuses to light up, “appears to be an old escape route of some sort.”

 

Jesse leans forward, eyeing it up, “knew about the shaft- it's got sensors in it. Haven't see that route before. Athena, you got any record of this?”

 

“My records indicate no entrance there Agent McCree.”

 

“What's it look like and how'd you find it?” His voice is sharp, none of the earlier glibness to be found.

 

“I arrived at Gibraltar two days before approaching,” Hanzo admits, “I scaled the cliffs and found it hidden amongst the rocks- I only noticed it due to the rain: it flowed between the cracks in the shape of a door. I did not find a way to open it but someone with more time may.”

 

Jesse, Winston and Angela all look distinctly unimpressed with just hearing this information. Hanzo shrugs and says, “was I to take your word alone that I would be safe here?”

 

“Athena,” Winston begins, “start searching old records. If nothing can be found, we will have to dig through the paper files. Since we can't request any from the UN, if that turns up nothing, Mr. Shimada, I will have you and McCree scout the area to see where it leads and how to defend it. For now I will have drones randomly patrol the area to ensure no one enters thy way,” Winston sighs, rubbing between his eyes, “the curse of old bases like this.”

 

“Thanks for pointing that out Shimada,” Jesse says, “you said you have two more?”

 

Hanzo nods fingers dancing over the the hologram. One lights up an area on the roof, another to a door on the side of the building, “the roof access is not easy to get to- but anyone coming in from above would be able to use it to get to an unused boiler room. The other appears to be an entrance to old barracks.”

 

“Roof’s covered with sensors- nothin heavier then a bird can land there without us knowing about it. I'll check out the old barracks and set up some pressure sensors. Thank you for bringin’ this to our attention.”

 

Hanzo nods, shoulders loosening slightly, he is silent for a long moment before shaking his head, “I will leave Asuka behind,” he says slowly, “but either Genji or Torbjorn must remain behind as well.”

 

“Fair enough,” Jesse agrees easily enough, “don't need the turrets for a scoutin’ mission but we need Genji’s stealth.” Hanzo nods, relieved.

 

Winston coughs into his fist awkwardly, “the briefing will be on your communicator- be at the dropship by 0500,” he waits for Hanzo to acknowledge him and then waves a hand, “dismissed, Mr. Shimada.”

 

Hanzo nods and leaves. When the door closes behind him Angela turns to Jesse and asks, “how many of those were you really already aware of?”

 

Jesse sighs, kicking his legs up on the table and taking a relaxed posture but his eyes are sharp on the map, “four of em,” he says, “the barracks one is one Blackwath used to use. Didn't know about the hidden one on the cliffside.”

 

“Why lie to him?” Winston asks, fingers going through data that Athena is sending him.

 

Jesse shrugs, easily, “wanted to see which ones he'd point out- how many he knew about. Tells a lot about a man what kind of things he points out and which he holds back. If I saw which ones he'd point out, I can gather which ones he might know about but didn't point out and which ones he doesn't know about at all.”

 

“And what have you gathered from this?” Angela asks shrewdly.

 

Jesse lets out a humming sound in his throat, “He pointed out some real well hidden ones that we knew he was lookin at from Athena alertin’ us,” he says slowly, thinking, “and then one we had no clue existed- by the time he got to the one on the cliff he had to know we knew exactly where he'd been the past few weeks. So he didn't leave anyplace he'd been out,” Jesse leans back further, staring up at the ceiling, “except one.”

 

He's silent for a moment and then Angela sighs at the dramatics and asks, “which one?”

 

“Athena, be a dear and point out exit 3A, would you? And blow it up some?”

 

A drainage pipein the boiler room lights up and enlarges: measurements and details on the side. Jesse doesn't look to it but he waves to it, “3-drainage, A, minimal threat. That thing there is nearly exit only with how steep the incline is. And you see those measurements? It'd have to be a drone to fit through...or a kid. Bout a week ago someone opened it up and dropped something through- reading from the boiler room before it went says it was a sonar device. Shimada probably dropped it in and got data on the measurements and where it goes.”

 

“Where does it go?” Asks Angela impatiently.

 

“Beach at the bottom of the cliff.”

 

“Can we trust him? If he didn't tell us about this?” Angela asks.

 

Jesse shrugs, “Shimada's smart- probably knows we suspect he didn't tell us everything. But if I had to guess...I'd say it's an exit strategy for the tyke in case things go tits up. She'd just barely fit through.”

 

“What should we do?” Winston asks.

 

“Honestly? I'd recommend smoothing that pipe down so the kid doesn't get hurt if she has to use it. Would make it harder for anything to climb up it too.”

 

“You want to help him create a secret escape for Asuka?” Angela asks incredulously.

 

Jesse tilts his head so he's making eye contact, “You remember how Genji hunted them Shimada down for nearly eight years?” Angela and Winston nod, “he left when he thought he got em all. But Genji never had the sorta mind for tactics and is awful at retreatin’- gangs as old and big as the Shimadas are hydras. Shimada confirmed they still have as much power as they used to when he told us they were still after him. You don't waste resources on just one man otherwise. They just got quiet about it.” There's silence for a long moment, “I don't know if we can trust the guy,” Jesse says lowly, “might use us up and spit us out when convenient. But that kid's an innocent. And it seems he's genuine about wantin’ her outta Shimada control for whatever reason. Least we can do is make sure she can get out of dodge if need be.”

 

Winston sighs and taps on the holopad, “I'll pour down a reagent to smooth the pipes. It won't be like going down a slide, but it should keep her from getting more than some bad rush burns.”

 

Angela pipes up next, “I'll be sure to give her a tetanus shot as well to ensure she doesn't fall ill should she need to use it.”

 

Jesse breathes heavily through his nose, rubbing the space between his eyes, “Shimadas: always makein' things more complicated.”

 

* * *

 

 

For a first mission, it goes remarkably smoothly. At least at first. It’s a scouting mission- several politicians of similar views dying in plausible, but rather convenient circumstances. The politicians in question had all been either pro-omnic or in favor of preserving cultural history by taxing foreign businesses higher than local businesses and denying them access to certain cultural centers. In some cases both. Winston believes there is an outside influence involved in the deaths and that they are attempting to cause protests and political instability by killing people in favor of such controversial topics. Thus, the mission is two-fold: first to gauge the state of the people and look for signs of unrest. Second, to find out who benefits most from these deaths and whether the person or people behind them truly care about both issues or if they are simply using one to disguise the other.

 

There’s three of them on the team. McCree leads them- both for having the most experience leading a team and being the most familiar with Rio de Janeiro having hidden out there during a rough year in ‘72. Hanzo, while he would normally be on the rooftops searching for suspicious activity, is on the ground, for being able to speak conversational portuguese and for the fact that they don’t know what suspicious activity would look like at this point...besides a strange man on a rooftop, that is. Genji is their third: scouting out areas near the city center where the politicians spend most of their days. Genji has no working knowledge of Portuguese, but he does have recording devices installed in his helmet. He spends the days they’re there hiding inconspicuously where politicians feel they’re most able to let their guard down-overcrowded bars and restaurants too loud for the average person to overhear anything.

 

Hanzo is noticeably tense and snappish during down time but professional in the field. Coincidentally, the two on this mission besides Hanzo are perhaps the best equipped to deal with the short temper and frayed nerves of an anxious father. They do not communicate with base- while the mission is not stealth critical, it is a sensitive situation. If someone is assassinating politicians and making it look like convenient accidents, then they are likely a person or group with power and influence. No-one without either assassinates politicians. As it is- no one knows Overwatch is back yet- and they’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible. Three tourists coming to a politically unstable city with no apparent tourist value since the Omnic Crisis is suspicious enough without adding encrypted messages coming out of that same city.

 

Four days of observing, talking to locals, and playing tourists by day, and translating the politicians conversations at night reveals very little beyond your regular sex scandals and tax evasion. Genj complains that this is a waste of time and Hanzo scowls in agreement, wanting to go back to base, but McCree silences their complaints.

 

“Call it a gut feelin’” he says, intently listening to yet another politian talk about his mistress, “But I’m thinkin Winston’s on the dime about this one. Somethin’ dirty’s going on.”

 

Day eight, and they catch a break- a political rally where one Lúcio Correia dos Santos is set to speak in three days time, according to several overheard conversations caught only by virtue of the fact that Hanzo is very good at going unseen, when need be. According to their mission briefs, Lúcio led a rebellion against Vishkar, driving them out of the city five months ago, one month after the recall. It was a very public spectacle only barely contained by Vishkar itself. Lúcio had livestreamed some damning evidence of sonic technology being used to manipulate people into compliance as well as the gentrification and exploitation of Rio De Janeiro. In response, Vishkar had responded that the government was well aware of the sonic technology that was being used and claimed it was experimental technology meant to reduce stress, not to enforce compliance and that they were merely providing jobs where there were none beforehand. Who, after all, doesn’t want better constructed buildings and more jobs with a less stressed population?

 

The livestream was, coincidentally, erased from the internet entirely and all articles referring to its existence amended a mere hour after its release. Luckily, Athena works even faster than money, and has it saved in her files. Rio De Janeiro, however, remained vigilant against Vishkar and refused to allow them into their city once more.

 

Vishkar is, of course, one of their suspects. The three have been on close lookout for anything resembling the hollowed eyed stares of a populace being manipulated by sonic technology. The risk/reward factor of attempting to make a move on Rio De Janeiro so soon after the last attempt was deemed far to in favor of risk for any sensible company to make a move by Winston.

 

At least, not one as obvious as the previous one.

 

Overnight, Lúcio became associated with Freedom Fighters everywhere- while the proof of what he did may be gone from the internet- people’s memories are harder to erase. And Freedom Fighters have a particular talent for spreading success stories to all corners of the globe, no matter who may wish it otherwise. His music became a cult sensation as he rose to stardom- far too public and far too associated with "the people" to be killed off without inciting rebellions everywhere.

 

And now he’s here, in Rio, after going on tour and raising money for his home town. Whoever it is that’s killing off politicians has to know Lúcio is speaking tonight. And more importantly- has to know that killing him, publicly, at a rally, is the most sure fire way to incite a riot when the political climate is already tense and the people still on edge from the last corporate takeover- the knowledge that their government sold them out still fresh on everyone’s minds.

 

A riot that size, with the right publicity, could throw the entire country into chaos. It seems they’ve found their break.

 

Genji scouts likely areas to hold a rally the day they discover the news. Life as the "Spare" to a criminal empire taught Genji how to find the hidden parts of a city. He scouts out warehouses, bunkers, seedy bars with large basements. It would be easier if anyone seemed to speak of where it is being held- but oppressed people learn quickly to speak of freedom in code. They'd only lucked out on overhearing Lúcio's name between two young teenagers before a third shushed them to silence. The rest of what they know, they've managed to put together by listening closely, "The Well of Frei Galvão", "There's a meeting in three days by the Well of Frei Galvão,""If you wish to make a difference, meet by the Well Frei Galvão in three days," and many other iterations. There is no Well of Frei Galvão anywhere in Rio, and asking directly leads to titters and the closed faces of defiant people. Still, he keeps close to the shadows, listening in- gathering anything he can that can be used.

 

McCree sticks to a seedier pub near the center of the city, listening intently to the shifty politicians that come in. He reports later that the politicians are definitely aware of the change in the city's climate but are, generally, at a loss as to how to handle it. They know something is happening- know it's coming soon. There's talks of tightening security around the political buildings-hidden guards and armaments. But most of the politicians know their power is tenuous at best- any sign that may be taken as arming against the people will lead to riots.

 

Hanzo makes his way to the poorest section of the city. He wears nothing but a shirt and a pair of worn jeans, not even a communicator or wire on him. A photo in hand completes his disguise.

 

He doesn’t blend in well- he obviously doesn’t belong here. But the trick is not belonging in a certain manner: not belonging in just the right way to go unnoticed. He’s careful to look from the photo in hand to the buildings around him often, but not too often. Someone who doesn’t belong but here, but is here for a reason.

 

Eventually, the honey pot works. An woman slightly younger than him, dark skinned and wavy hair, apporaches with a smile, “lost?” she says in accented English.

 

“Yes,” he replies in equally accented portugese, to her obvious surprise. He turns the picture in hand towards her showing her what he’s been searching for so intently. There’s a young couple in the picture: a japanese woman with long hair and dark eyes standing next to a tall man and a dark complexion- between them stands a young girl, perhaps three, who is obviously a mixture of them both with a darker skin tone, wavy black hair, and her mother’s eyes and facial shape. They stand on a stoop before a brightly painted door- in the background to the side is a beautiful archway.

 

“This was my wife,” Hanzo continues in Portugese, “She is from here. Find old home?”

 

“Where is your wife?” The woman asks, taking care to speak a little slower, though Hanzo doesn’t truly need her to, “Can she not show  you?”

 

Hanzo doesn’t need to fake the pain he feels at the question, merely allow it to show on his face. The sympathy on her face is apparent before he even responds, “Dead.”

 

“I am sorry,” she says, “Let me see and I will help you.”

 

A part of Hanzo feels ashamed, invoking Saki like this but part of him believes this fate as well. For Saki truly is the girl in the photo, and, coincidentally, truly did spend most of her life in this city before moving to Japan in order to connect with her mother’s heritage. He would meet her three years into his exile by chance, and, well. The rest of that is for another time, when he is not trying to save a city from ruin.

 

The woman examines the photo carefully, not touching it to Hanzo’s relief, and begins talking, “This archway, see? No wonder you were having trouble- Vishkar removed this archway seven months ago.”

  
The way she spits the name Vishkar is the exactly what Hanzo had been hoping for, “Vishkar?” he asks slowly, making his tounge stumble over the word, “The development company?”

 

“They are pigs!” she exclaims, caught up in a sudden passionate wind she grabs Hanzo’s wrist and pulls him to a small fruit stand, “Maria! Tell this man of what Vishkar did to your store! He is looking for his wife’s childhood home and it was _ruined_ by those cafetãos!”

 

The woman, black with with grey coily hair, scowls when his guide shows the photo, “Ooooooh those Vishkar! That archway was as old as the city! You won’t be finding it anymore though! They tore it down! And my store!” She shakes her head, her voice cracking slightly on the last syllable, “This stand is all that is left of my family’s store! We scrape by for five generations, selling fresh fruits and vegetables at prices the people here could afford! And two days after a visit from one of their _representatives_ ,” she spits the word, “The health department comes and finds rats, roaches, vermin everywhere! We kept a clean business- we checked for signs of vermin every week and cleaned every day after closing! And not two weeks later, where my shop used to be? _Vishkar Grocers!_ At thrice the prices I was selling at!”

 

Maria chokes off, rubbing her eyes which have teared in their anger. Others nearby are muttering angrily to themselves in agreement. Once Maria has calmed, she takes a closer look at the picture, her eyes spark with recognition, “Oye! I know that couple! And that child too. The woman, she kept to herself mostly, but I recognize her- we don’t get many of your kind here,” she says the last bit not unkindly, merely stating a fact, but part of Hanzo bristles anyway “But that man is Luiz, he grew up here, smart boy, always went to church and a choir boy too! The girl...Sasha? Suki?”

 

“Saki,” Hanzo says.

  


“Yes, Saki! Good girl, like her father. Always insisted on playing futball with the boys though,” she tsks but sounds fond.

 

“Yes,” Hanzo says, wistful, “I imagine she would.”

 

Maria observes him with sharp eyes, “She was your wife then- and she has joined her parents in heaven,” she states, not asks. Hanzo nods anyway, “You are a good husband, returning to her birthplace to remember her.”

 

The guilt Hanzo feels in that moment is overwhelming, but he smiles and thanks her anyway.

 

“We are no fools here, boy. We know our city is not as pretty as the capital- no longer the gem that it once was. But you came here anyway, seeking to learn of your wife. Our community is strong- we all support each other. It is how we drove Vishkar away- they underestimated our love for one another. You are part of this community now, too.”

 

There are mutter of ascent through the crowd, a leaf turning over, a wave receding- it is a subtle change in the air that comes with Maria’s announcement, her word, in this part of the city, at least, is law.

 

Hanzo inclines his head, hiding the wetness he feels in them, “My name is Hanzo- and I am honored to be here.”

 

“Come, let us tell you about Saki, Joao was a good friend of hers, I remember. As was Isabella. Come, I will show you her home- see, over there, where the children kick the ball? Saki onced punched out a young brat picking on a young one. Here, have a piece of fruit, maracujá was her favorite- she’d buy one from my shop every friday with her allowance.”

 

The people part as they pass but remain close- sometimes a stranger will interrupt with a smile and point to the young Saki in the picture and say _Here she punched my bully, Here she gave me her food because I was hungry, Here she pushed me in the mud- her mother made her apologize not even an hour later!_

 

His guide has disappeared into the masses, as though escorting him to the link of his love’s past was her sole duty. And while he learns of Saki, he can’t help but wish Asuka was here to see this part of her heritage, to ask the questions that Hanzo doesn’t know the answers to. But it is dangerous enough to return to Japan to honor Saki’s and Genji’s deaths every year- it is better to go where they have no ties at all.

 

Even wistful and mournful: Hanzo is still on a mission, and he is only more determined than before to keep this place from falling to chaos. So, subtly, he shifts the conversation to where he needs it to go: the topic of one Lúcio Correia dos Santos.

 

“Lúcio was always a good boy,” Maria chuckles, “Head in the clouds though. Loves his music- he used to stand on street corners giving away his mixtapes to anyone who would listen.”

 

“How did he become so famous so quickly?” Hanzo muses as if to himself.

 

Maria hesitates for only a moment before shrugging and saying, “The internet I suppose- someone popular must have shared his music and it caught on. He is very talented: just needed the right opportunity.”

 

“I suppose a celebrity opposing Vishkar’s development of the region must have helped your cause,” Hanzo says neutrally, face mildly interested as though considering the idea.

 

“Vishkar is-” she cuts herself off with an angry huff, lowering her voice to continue, “They are devils, Hanzo. They do not care who they hurt to get what they want. And their methods- the story of our rebellion reached the outside, I know, but Vishkar is powerful. There is far more to the story-it was not just a cause, it was our very lives at stake.”

 

Hanzo allows his eyes to go wide, staring at her with his mouth slightly agape, “Would the government not help you?” he asks, keeping his voice low, glancing around as though scared to be overheard.

 

“The government cares only for what lines their pockets,” she says, past anger and into resignation, “We begged for a hero- and dear Lúcio answered.”

 

She slows, and Hanzo slows with her until they stop. The buildings here are patchworked between traditional and modern but not a natural blending of the two. Here, there are spaces that obviously once held color and history replaced instead by lifeless efficiency. Delicate culture violently uprooted to be replaced with conformity. The people have tried to replace what was stolen, it is obvious, with murals and brightly colored flags. But the wound still weeps. Maria is looking towards a door- the windows are boarded up, as is the door. But the color of the door is familiar, and Hanzo holds up the worn photograph depicting a family long since lost to memory.

 

A bright, familiar purple shines through.

 

They are quiet for a long moment, lost in their own memories. Hanzo tries to imagine a young Saki here, punching out bullies and learning to not be one, spending her allowance on fruit only to give it away to someone who asked. Playing futball because grownups said not to and playing house when they weren’t looking. He imagines her then, pointing to the bright purple door with Asuka between them, laughing, pulling at Asuka’s favorite ribbon: _Like mother, like daughter!_

 

He opens his eyes slowly, not realizing he’s closed them. Next to him, Maria is eyeing him closely, “You did not come here for Saki, did you?” she asks, not angry, or accusing.

 

“It...was a benefit to coming here.” Hanzo admits.

 

“Are you here to hurt Lúcio?” she asks, watching him.

 

“No. But we believe he is in danger.” he mutters.

 

“We?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

He looks behind her- at a mural on a wall. By the way she straightens, Hanzo knows she knows what mural he looks at. She turns anyway.

 

When Overwatch fell- there were two distinct camps of feelings towards it. The first, believed completely and utterly that Overwatch was corrupt from the beginning, that good had never been their goal- that they had always strived for power. The rest were people saw who them in action. In any war, in any conflict, it is the poor and disenfranchised, the unprotected, who suffer first. They are the first to fall and the last to recover. A map of the world color coded by those who approved of Overwatch could nearly be directly overlain by a map of countries most affected by both the omnic crisis and the terrorist groups that rose after. Brazil, decimated by the omnic crisis, still struggling to this day to remain stable, still largely views Overwatch as a band of heroes.

 

The mural is painted in orange and white, lovingly crafted and beautiful in it’s simplicity. Candles are lined along the wall. There is a woman with a rosary praying over a picture of a young man in fatigues- overwatch patch on his arm. It is only the second week of November: _Finados_ is still close to everyone’s minds and the hardier offerings remain, respected and untouched.          


How cruel a world we live in, that children’s toys are offered at war memorials.

 

Maria breathes out shakily. She stares for a long moment at the mural. Perhaps she is looking at a particular candle, perhaps not. She turns back to Hanzo and the look in her eyes makes him uneasy- it is bright and full of the kind of hope a man like him doesn’t deserve. It’s a look reserved for heroes: not the likes of him.

 

“Come here, in three days time,” she whispers, breathless, “you and the others. We will bring you to the Rally- and we will protect our own.”

 

* * *

 

 

How were they to know, then, that this was only the beginning? How were they to know that there was a bigger picture? How were they to know of the series of events that would unfold from this moment?

 

How were they to know?          

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks. This was never gonna be just a cute Dadzo fic with some McHanzo thrown in for good measure. I have questions about the world of Overwatch, and in lack of answers I'm gonna find my own. I hope that you all stick with me through this journey to the end. 
> 
> Notes: 
> 
> Honestly wasn't expecting Torb to be the first to warm up to Hanzo until after he went and did it. I figured- if anyone could understand being a dad, 
> 
> Frei Galvão- First saint from Brazil- well known for his generosity, kindness, and healing abilities. He was one of the chosen saints for World Youth Day held in Brazil which was held in the city...ding ding ding! Rio de Janeiro.
> 
> Saki-she's always been, from the beginning, half Brazilian and half Japanese, making Asuka a quarter Brazilian, if you wanna get technical. As mentioned in the first chapter, Asuka has darker coloring than her father and a broader nose but largely takes after her Japanese heritage otherwise. Why Brazilian? I checked imigration stats to Japan at Brazilians are in the top five for people who immigrate there. Why Rio de Janeiro, specifically? Well besides the fact that its the second most populous city in Brazil, it was also, admittedly, convenient for plot purposes. 
> 
>  
> 
> As for Rio de Janeiro- I'm basing my depiction of Rio de Janeiro off of Lúcio's backstory and of Symmetra's comic. Rio de Janeiro is a beautiful city, full of life, culture, and history and is the sixth most populated city in the Americas. To those who don't recognize is- you know that giant statue of jesus with his arms stretched out on the top of a mountain? That's Rio De Janeiro, also the home of the 2016 Olympics. Know that I do not make the decision to drastically change this city based on nothing. A city as wonderful as Rio de Janeiro was taken over by Vishkar- was in such poor states that a company like Vishkar was needed in the first place. Canon states that Rio de Janeiro was hit hard during the Omnic Crisis and after was considered a hotspot by Overwatch. Likely, all of Brazil is in dire straights after the Omnic crisis- if a city as important as Rio De Janeiro was considered a hotspot and a place in need of re-development. 
> 
> From this, I gather that the Rio De Janeiro, and likely the whole of Brazil, of present day Overwatch is in a state of financial and political upheaval: still struggling to rebuild in a world Post-Omnic Crisis with likely very little to no support from the UN after Overwatch was disbanded, leaving the people there vulnerable to outside corporations such as Vishkar as well as terrorist attacks. 
> 
> Which leads near directly into Overwatch and how it's viewed in the world. How history views any organization is, largely, based on who they help and who they hurt. Keep that in mind, and, assuming the permanent members of the security council remain the same (and nothing in canon suggests otherwise) there is,at least, China, France, Russia, the UK, and the USA. China faces a threat from the sea every few years, France is an unkown, Russia is facing a second omnic crisis, the UK has been nearly completely rebuilt using Omnics as slave labor, and the USA is another unknown, other than there was an omnium in detroit that was supposed to appear in First Strike (meaning the USA probs had some serious troubles too) anywhere with an omnium was likely considered a priority to the UN and any omnium in one of the security council's backyards? you better believe that took priority first. They're saved first, given the chance to rebuild, first, and the rest of the world is in shambles...except for Overwatch, who continues to help those affected no matter their political influence on the council. We know that in Mexico, at least, poster of Overwatch from it's golden days are still there, seen in a city overrun by the los muertos, omnics have few if any protections. the strong and open gang activity suggests general political upheavel and unrest. And still, people look up to Overwatch? Despite it being years after it's fall? 
> 
> So what's the difference? Who sees them as heroes? Who sees them as villains? 
> 
> Well, think about it- who needs the heroes? Who STILL needs those heroes? 
> 
> Those the UN and the security council have deemed lost and hopeless causes. Or causes simply not monetarily worth investing in. Countries that were decimated by the Omnic Crisis and subsequent terrorist attacks- to who the only people that seemed to care about them?
> 
> Was Overwatch.
> 
> Now tell me- what's the best way to destroy an organization that you created that has largely become independent and has the devotion of dozens of countries who may not be strong politically, but have wealth and resources in other areas? How do you destroy something that's become stronger than you? 
> 
> What did Greeks do to Troy?


	5. Birds on a Wire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit on a stick you guys are amazing. I love all of you. Sorry for the delay- I was away on vacation! But I have a lot of content ready to go, if I can just find the places to put it ^^; 
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and support- I read each and every one, even if I don't respond, and I appreciate all of you!

_“Have you heard? Have you heard?”_

 

There are whispers in the streets. Men and women, children and the elderly- the excitement is in the air. It is the retreating tide before the wave, the quiet before the storm. The people, there is excitement to them that hasn’t been seen in a long time.

 

There are children singing in the street, joining hands and swinging in a circle. The sun sets in Brazil as it does everywhere but the children sing still.

 

A nossa jornada  
Já vai terminar  
Adeus, meus senhores,  
Queiram desculpar

 

Goodbye and forgive us, they sing, goodbye and forgive us for it is late, the sun is setting and we must be off to meet our beds. But they do not leave, they join hands, they dance in circles and their mothers and fathers whisper to one another behind market stands and raised hands.

 

_“Have you heard the news?”_

 

Adeus, é tarde,  
Nós vamos partir  
O dia amanhece,  
Queremos dormir.

 

Dawn rises on the third day and the city is alight with tension- a chord half strung but not yet plucked. The children are singing and dancing in the streets- they jump in the fountains of the rich and the dirt washes away. The guards come and chase them off but they laugh and laugh and laugh for it is too late- they are clean once more, born again once more. And once the guards leave another group of dirty children comes and jumps in the fountain- the clean fresh water a relief in the hot and cruel sun. Water meant for drinking instead used to make the rich feel richer while the sun bakes dirt on the faces of the children. The water rinses them, revealing skin in every shade imaginable before they are chased off once more, laughing, singing.

 

The water does not care- it swirls with the dirt of the children and it remains cool and pleasant to the touch.

 

_“They’re here”_

 

Did you know?

 

“ _They’ve returned to us!”_

 

Before the omnic crisis

 

“ _They're here to bring the water back!”_

 

Brazil had the largest supply of freshwater in the world?

 

Adeus, é tarde,  
Nós vamos partir  
Amanhã voltaremos,  
Se Deus permitir.

 

* * *

 

 

There is building with a purple door who’s entrance and windows are boarded up. Near by, where cold efficiency has replaced the life of this part of the city, there is a mural in orange and white- orange, up top, like the rising sun breaking over the horizon. White, like the tops of waves around in a circle and holding the sun up. Someone has painted over it- changed it, transformed it into something new. A beautiful black woman stands holding her hands upraised in the center of the Overwatch symbol, the triangle in the center forming the white folds of her dress as she rises from the sea and holds up the sun.

 

As the sun rises on the third day a question is asked of the people-where do you stand?

 

As it sets that night the people answer with white flowers and swaths of blue fabric. Nearly a hundred white candles lit as as millions of cariocas of all religions the city over make a single, unified wish. It is not yet the new year- but Yemanjá is kind and their city- their country- has become a shipwreck.

 

* * *

 

 

“How’d you get em to let us come again, Shimada?” McCree asks, once again, obviously displeased with not knowing the full story.

 

Genji shakes his head, “You are wasting your time, Jesse,” He says, amused, “When there is something brother does not wish to share you would have better luck convincing the mountains to move.”

 

“As I told you,” Hanzo says, ignoring Genji’s jab, “A friend.”

 

“Right. A friend. You just happened to meet, by coincidence, the day we discover that Lucio is is likely gonna be in town and,” he accentuates the words, emphasizing how ridiculous the point is, “They just happen to invite you and your pals along to an illegal political rally. Because you asked nicely.”

 

“It is amazing what a simple please will do for you,” Hanzo replies blandly while tying up his hair in a small cracked mirror.

 

Jesse throws his arms up in the air and mutters in Spanish, “I assure you our parents were married,” Hanzo replies, putting in one of his plugs.

 

“How many languages do you speak?” Jesse demands, exasperated.

 

“I am told I have a talented tongue.”

 

“Brother, that’s crude.”

 

Hanzo pauses and looks at Genji in the mirror, “What?”

 

“A talented-you know what, I am not explaining this to you,” he pats Jesse on the shoulder once in manly cromadiere. A shift in the perspective of the mirror and Hanzo can see Jesse pulling his hat down over his face. Hanzo shrugs it off and inserts the other plug.

 

All piercings sufficiently in place, Hanzo turns to face his brother and comrade. Genji has opted for an almost full body covering, keeping as much of his armour clothed as possible wearing long jeans and a long sleeved hoodie. He insists on ridiculous sandals that have a bottle opener at the bottom: he’d insisted that you never know when that might come in handy. Jesse, meanwhile, opted for long worn jeans and his cowboy boots, without the spurs, and a plain black t-shirt. Grudgingly, seeing Hanzo ready, he takes off his hat. His hair is a mess.

 

“Brush you hair, cowboy,” Hanzo shoots out.

 

“My hairs fine!” Jesse retorts, but he runs his fingers through it anyway in an attempt to neaten it. Hanzo snorts.

 

“Come on, we are going to be late,” whines Genji.

 

Checking the time, Hanzo grabs his guitar case which carries Stormbow. Jesse straps peacekeeper to a holster strapped around his waist, under his shirt. Genji’s Katana is left behind for the sake of stealth and his wakizashi strapped to his back. The look like an eclectic bunch of citizens, but citizens nonetheless.

 

Into the warm night they go. The warm lamp light illuminates the stone paths- old cobblestone and smooth pavement blending into each other. Hanzo leads them down alleys and through crowded bars- side streets and turns, following the directions given to him. They end up before a closed down and boarded up record store with the sign “Ricardo’s Music” above it. There's graffiti of a man with black hair and thick brows- a golden halo surrounding his head.

 

Hanzo approaches and knocks on the door twice pauses then knocks twice again. There's a long pause and then door opens. A woman with dark skin and black kinky hair styled in an Afro. She ushers them in and closes the door behind them.

 

In quiet Portuguese the woman asks, “Are you Maria's friends?”

 

“Yes,” replies Hanzo.

 

The woman nods and gestures for them to follow. She walks with a limp. She pulls the side of a shelving unit against one of the walls- Genji and Jesse go to assist her while Hanzo keeps watch. As the shelf swings open, a hole a little less than a meter in diameter and rough at the edges is revealed. She ducks through and they follow, a strap behind the shelf makes it easy to pull it shut once more.

 

They're in a nearly empty courtyard- the floor is dirt and at the center is an old well. Empty pots and crates are along the walls of the nearby buildings and stores.

 

They could be killed here and no one would know.

 

Jesses hand is already at his side, ready to pull peacekeeper out in half a second and Genji is tense, scanning the area for a better vantage point. Hanzo is tense, and watches the woman carefully.

 

She limps to the center- towards the well.

 

“Here, the well, go down it”

 

Three incredulous looks and she huffs in laughter.

 

“It is the entrance to a shelter, from the omnic crisis.”

 

“You not coming to the-?”

 

“No, my daughter, she needs dinner. I was here only to let you in. Now, once you go down, turn right, then left, then straight until you find a door. Knock as you did here. There, you will find them.”

 

With that, the woman turns on her heel and limps away, moving the shelf and disappearing behind it before closing it once more. They’re left starting bemusedly at a well in a closed off courtyard.

 

“Likely that this isn’t how most folk are gettin here tonight,” muses Jesse as he leans over the well, peering down and squinting.

 

“Or it is a trap,” Genji points out, leaning down over the other side.

 

Hanzo manfully ignores the temptation to push the two of them in and says, “No, I trust my contact. Too many people coming to the same hidden location from the same entrance is suspicious- and they have no reason to truly trust us. Likely, this is just another entrance.”

 

Jesse nods in agreement and hefts himself over with a grunt, straddling the side of the well. He searches for purchase with one foot, looking very foolish while doing so. Eventually, he finds what he’s looking for and puts his weight down on the foot inside the well.

 

“Seems there’s some hidden holds and such here. I’ll head down first and flash a light if its safe. If I don’t, save my ass from the fire, would ya?”

 

And so, Jesse begins his descent, leaving Genji and Hanzo in awkward silence. Jesse quickly disappears beyond sight as he goes down the well, though his muffled curses and be moanings of his luck follow for a while after, echoing up the well. The two brothers stare down, looking for a flash of light.

 

“Brother…” Begins Genji, “About Asuka…”

 

Hanzo tenses.

 

“You...you are raising her, far differently than our parents raised us.”

 

Hanzo nods, his shoulders nearly to his ears and his eyes trained on the well below.

 

“She’s affectionate and...kind. A child, not an assassin. But you were so proud of what we were...what changed?”

 

Hanzo‘s knuckles are white from where he grips the edge of the well, “That is not your concern.”

 

“Brother…”

 

Before Genji can complete the thought, a flash of light is seen. Eager to get away from this conversation, Hanzo hops over edge of the well and begins a rapid descent downward. Genji sighs loudly, but follows a few moments after. The well’s walls are dry- it’s obviously not been used as well in many years, if that was ever it’s true purpose. Once past the obvious sight of anyone looking down into the well, the wall becomes more obviously grooved- metal handle bars sticking out and acting the part of a ladder. It takes longer than one might expect to climb down- the “well” is quite deep. What had taken Jesse nearly ten minutes to complete the Shimada brothers complete in about five. They must be at least a kilometer underground.

 

It’s dark at the bottom, with the exception of Jesse’s flashlight. The three of them stand close together, jammed tightly in a narrow passage, the dirt and stone held back with wooden support beams.

 

“I reckon we otta head this way,” Jesse mutters, gesturing with his flashlight to the pathway to the right, as the woman had said, “Hanzo, you’re the one these folks recognize so you take point. I’ll be behind you. Genji, see if you can get outta sight and keep unnoticed for as long as possible.”

 

The three of them shuffle around into position and Jesse hands Hanzo the flashlight. They keep quiet, following the path given for approximately fifteen minutes before reaching the first turn. Another ten minutes and they reach the second. If they hadn’t been given directions, the maze of these underground tunnels surely would have confused them.

 

Eventually, the reach a wall. Confused, Hanzo does as instructed and knocks on it. After a brief moment it slides open to reveal Maria’s familiar face and a wave of sound hits them. She ushers them through. After the three of them are past the wall, she pulls a discrete lever and the wall closes: a secret entrance. They’re behind a stack of crates out of direct view of the people around them.

 

“Thank you,” Hanzo says.

 

“Just keep our boy safe,” Maria replies, “And don’t make me regret this.” She leaves them, going around the stacked crates and blending into the crowd. The crates make a convenient pathway for Genji, who climbs them to the rafters lining the ceiling above. Hanzo and Jesse step out from behind the crates and begin shifting their way through slowly- trying not to draw attention to themselves as they make their way towards the center of the room where a makeshift stage made of small crates is set up; a wireless mic stands on top, but a quick glance around reveals no loudspeakers..  

 

There are people of all ethnicities and ages here but they all have the same desolate look on their faces- and eyes newly filled with hope. They seem to be in a revamped cistern of some kind or an old underground bunker meant to hold many people. A glance upwards and Hanzo can see beams crisscrossing the high ceiling, supporting it. Hanzo would much rather be up there and envies the knowledge that that’s where his brother is now. The place is simultaneously larger and smaller than Hanzo had imagined it. Everyone is packed tightly, and there is even a makeshift second level in the form of a wooden ledges, obviously once meant to be storage of some sort. They were correct in their earlier assessment- there seems to be multiple entrances and exits to this place.

 

The people murmur around them. Whispering about Lúcio, about the water, about the ocean waters rising and Yemanjá. A hush falls over the crowd as a voice calls out, “Excuse me! Pardon me!” the sea parts and there he is.

 

The months of travel have been kind to Lúcio. There's a fullness to his face that's lacking in many of the others surrounding them- but he looks tired as well. Strained and pulled tight around the edges. A man who's world view has rapidly changed. He taps the microphone in front of him: the room goes still and quiet, waiting for the man to speak.

 

Lúcio’s dark eyes scan the room, making eye contact. He sees them: and that’s more than can be said of the Brazilian government.

 

“My brothers and sisters,” he begins slowly, Portuguese rolling off his tongue  “When Vishkar came to Rio de Janeiro we fought them back- we showed them that we would could do: that we would not be forced into submission. We fought back. We won the battle- but I have learned on my travels that it was only just that: one battle in a much larger war.”

 

Hanzo and Jesse scan the crowd, but no one is moving- no one is interrupting. It seems that no one is even breathing, for how still the crowd is.

 

“There’s something big at play and the stakes are the world. Overwatch used to be the heroes everyone looked up to- but when they got too big, all of a sudden things start coming out and blowing up. They say there’s no more heroes: but I know that’s not true because I grew up in this city. Overwatch got taken down: now it’s time for us to step up and finish what they started.”

 

The crowd shifts, tension fills the room. Jesse taps on Hanzo’s shoulders and juts his chin out to the side. There’s movement amongst the crowd, someone pushing their way to the front.

 

“Governments should be protecting their people but it’s coming down to us: we need to stand up and protect each other. We must show the governments that we will not tolerate being lied to! The world needs more Heroes: and it’s up to us to be those heroes for ourselves.”

 

What  Lúcio might have said next is lost, as in a flurry of movements someone breaks from the crowd, lunging towards him on stage. Hanzo and Jesse, muscles already poised for movement, intercept. Hanzo bodily covers Lúcio and puts a hand over his head, forcing him to duck down in case of snipers, making Lúcio’s body smaller and putting himself between Lúcio and the crowd. Jesse, meanwhile, stands between Hanzo and Lúcio’s bodies, peacekeeper drawn and aimed at the attacker. Genji remains in the rafters- in case a secondary attacker comes out.

 

There’s screams and movement from the crowd at the sight of the attacker- people running for the multiple exits. The attacker is a young man wearing rags- dirty and unremarkable, no older than twenty with a wickedly sharp knife in hand. He stops at the sight of Jesse and Peacekeeper.

 

Gunfire sounds off in the distance- yelling and shouts, trampling. Figures swathed in black wearing body armor and riot shields swarm in. Panic rises. Jesse hesitates for only a moment before placing a hand on his hat and running after Hanzo and Lúcio, leaving the would-be-assassin behind to get lost in the crowd. They can’t afford to be caught here.

 

“This way!” A familiar voice calls out, and Hanzo looks up and spots Maria shoving against the crowd towards them. They meet in the middle and Hanzo has only a moment to take in the determined edge to her face before she’s shoving them the way they entered: the only entrance not currently being swarmed by the people in riot gear.

 

“Go! Get out, we’ll keep them off you!”

 

“Madam Oracle! I won’t leave the people behind!” Lúcio shouts, shoving Hanzo away from him.

 

“You don’t have a choice! We need you on the outside- tell the world of what happened here!”

 

“Go-now!” she yells, shoving them, before turning to the crowd, yelling above the crowd, “Liberdade para a água!” A call quickly taken up by the crowd as they organize- going from chaos to an organized mob.

 

The trio make their way to the discrete exit as gunfire goes off. The smell of smoke fills the air as teargas is deployed. But the people are prepared with molotov cocktails, tossing them back. From the upper levels, people throw heavy crates down below, smashing them over heads. Hanzo struggles to keep Lúcio moving away from the crowd.

 

They make it to the hidden door, and slide in, Hanzo holding it open only long enough for Genji to jump down from the rafters and join them, before sliding it shut- the door becoming indistinguishable from the wall once more.

 

Lúcio breaks free from Hanzo’s hold, throwing himself at the wall, pounding on it, trying to force it open once more. But it doesn’t budge.

 

“Mr. Santos, we don’ got time for this, we need to leave, now.” Jesse intones, eyes scanning the dark halls.

 

Lúcio whirls around, “Who the hell are you fools? Let me back in! I have to help them!”

 

“No can do Mr. Santos, you heard what the lady said- you gotta live to tell the tale.”

 

“I’m not going with you till you tell me who the hell you are!”

“Just some Heroes tryin’ to put the world back to rights.”

 

There’s a long pause as Jesse and Lúcio stare eachother down before he rocks back on his heels, realization on his face.

 

“You’re the ones the Oracle was talking about. You’re...you’re the new Overwatch.”

 

Jesse shoots Hanzo a sharp look and drawls, “You’re gonna be the one to explain how he knows that to Winston n’ Angela later,” he turns back to Lúcio, tipping his hat, “That’d be us. We’re to investigate the murders of some people with progressive views- see if they’re connected. Heard about the rally and figured you’d probably be the next target.”

 

Lúcio’s eyes go wide, “They really are tryin’ to kill me,” he murmurs to himself, “Damn. Ma’s not gonna be happy about that.”

 

“We do not have time to discuss this here,” Hanzo interrupts, voice curt, “We must leave and regroup.”

 

“Right, Mr. Santos, this’ll go a lot easier if you cooperate but I’ll do what I have to to keep you alive.”

 

“You threating me?” Lúcio says lowly.

 

“Threatin’ implies I ain’t willin to follow through and I most certainly am if it keeps you alive.”

 

Lúcio shakes his head, dreads flowing with the movement. He looks older than his twenty-six years in that moment, “You’re explaining what the hell happened once we’re out of here,” he demands.

 

“Wouldn’ dream otherwise. Now, lets move.”

 

They leave, the muffled sounds of shouting and gunfire behind them. Lúcio is distinctly unhappy but remains quiet. Genji takes up the rear while Jesse stands next to Lúcio in case he tries to bolt. Hanzo leads the way. The climb up the well is distinctly less pleasant than the climb down, and the climb down wasn’t exactly pleasant to Jesse who wasn’t trained to scale flat surfaces. It takes them longer for the four of them to get out, but they do. The sky tinted orange and the stars just beginning to fade as a new day arrives.

 

In silence, the four return back to the shoddy hotel room, Genji having given Lúcio his own clothing to keep him from being recognized by anyone on the streets. When they enter the room, Genji and Hanzo immediately check the place for bugs while Jesse turns on the shoddy television to the local news to see what’s being broadcasted. Lúcio stands in the center, arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

 

“Well?” Lúcio asks after a moment.

 

Jesse gestures to the news and Lúcio looks. Traffic reports, a fire in a restaurant, reports on a murder committed.

 

No reports on a rally, nor the subsequent raid. The fight drained out of him, Lúcio sits heavily on one of the beds, staring at his hands as a news reporter drones on about a local election.

 

“What’s going on?” Lúcio asks, desperation in his voice, “All those people...and the broadcast, all of it...what happened?”

 

“Likely, whoever is responsible for the raid knew your broadcast was going to happen and took measure to ensure that it wouldn’t broadcast,” Genji pipes up from his place leaning against a wall, satisfied the place isn’t bugged.

 

“So no one even heard it…? It was for nothing?” Lúcio shakes his head, and looks up eyes blazing, “Was it the government?” he demands outright.

 

Jesse sighs, running a hand through his hair, messing it up, “I don’t know,” he says, frustrated, “Could be a terrorist group, could be a part of the government, could be some private company like Vishkar. Could be anyone with reason to want people compliant and the means to get people that way,” he sighs and shakes his head, “Shit, this is complicated.”

 

“And you guys are Overwatch,” Lúcio states.

 

“Yes,” Hanzo replies, “Who else knows?” he asks.

 

Lúcio shrugs, “There’s been whispers goin’ around. But those come and go- people’ve been claimin’ to be part of the ‘New Overwatch’ since it disbanded. Oracle’s the one who told me tho- don’t know who she might’ve told.”

 

Jesse rubs between his eyes, “Who’s ‘Oracle’ and how’d she know about us?”

 

“Oracle’s the one who organized the Rally and got the people together. She’s the one who broadcasted our rebellion against Vishkar, made sure I didn’t get thrown in jail for it. While I’ve been going around the world, she’s been the one keeping things stable here. We call her Oracle ‘cuz she always seems to know when shit’s about to go down.”

 

“Maria,” Hanzo says, “she was our contact. I told her we were Overwatch.”

 

“About that,” Jesse drawls, “the hell were you thinkin’ revealin’ us like that?” He sounds more annoyed than anything.

 

“She knew I was looking for Mr. Santos- if we didn’t want to lose our opportunity I had to give her something.”

 

“Well who the hell knows who she told- you could’ve compromised our entire operation,” Jesse continues, real anger starting to seep into his tone.

 

Hanzo shrugs, letting the anger roll off him, “You heard Mr. Santos- whispers of Overwatch returning come and go. We will lay low for a while, and they will die down again.”

 

“That wasn’t your call to make.”

 

“It worked in our favor- Mr. Santos is alive. I fail to see the problem.”

 

“Look,” Lúcio interrupts before Jesse can retort, “Oracle’s a smart lady- you were right to trust her. If she thought you were anything less than the real deal the Rally wouldn’t have happened at all and I’dve gone to ground. She’dve kept the truth to a need to know basis.”

 

Jesse sighs, but nods, accepting this.

 

“Jesse,” Genji pipes up, “What do we do from here? Whoever is killing people knows we’re here now- and knows we have Mr. Santos with us (“Call me Lúcio, please.”). We are not safe here.”

 

Jesse nods, “Mission’s mostly a success. We know more now than we did comin' in. We get the hell outta dodge ‘for we’re found,” he turns to Lúcio, “You can either come with or lay low. Won’t force you either way. I recommend you get the hell outta Brazil, whatever you do.”

 

“You kidding?” Lúcio asks, “A chance to join Overwatch? To be a hero? To help my people? Of course I’m coming with.”

 

“Like you said Lúcio,” Jesse replies, smile quirking at his lips, “There’s heroes all around. And you’re already one yourself.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Goodbye, it's late,  
We're leaving.  
Tomorrow we will return,  
God willing.

 

   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All commentary on this chapter can be found here: https://writingdeviation.tumblr.com/post/158644952383/fold-your-wings-references-and-notes-chapter-5


	6. Metal Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go home AKA Hanzo hates airports and also flying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo much love for everyone who waited for this chapter to come out! I hope it doesn't disappoint- a lot happens this chapter!
> 
> CHAPTER WARNING: Mentions of attempted suicide, and self harm.

There’s no private jet waiting for them like in the Golden Days of Overwatch. Instead, they take separate flights in pairs, so as to not arouse suspicion. Genji goes with Lúcio and Jesse with Hanzo. Genji proclaims that he’ll “take one for the team” and takes the later flight: Hanzo suspects he just wants a few extra hours to see the sights. Or sleep.

 

The closer the two of them get to Security the more uncomfortable Hanzo becomes. Airport Security always gives him a hassle. A glance toward Jesse confirms that he’s equally dreading the coming experience- his face is smooth and carefully blank: an expression Hanzo has quickly come to equate to meaning, “I don’t like what’s about to happen but I’m going to deal with it anyway”. Hanzo doesn’t normally feel the urge to engage in small talk, but it’s strong now with how uncomfortable he, and obviously Jesse as well, feels.

 

As they approach the full-body metal detector, they gingerly place their carry on items onto a conveyor belt. For Hanzo, this includes a bag holding a few books, his sketchbook, and his phone and headphones (“Earbuds damage your ears, McCree, as a sniper I need to be able to hear if anyone comes up behind me.””Well shoot, shootin’ all these years has made me hard o’ hearin’ anyway, might as well go for the cheaper option”). He removes the “for show” shoes from his feet and places them along side his other belongings. Which, of course, leaves him in his bare prosthesis which also resemble shoes, designed so for optimal balance. The toes are sharp, for climbing, and Hanzo already dreads having to explain to a clueless Security Agent that, no, his feet aren’t weapons. Hanzo very carefully does not look at Jesse who is also very carefully not looking at him.

 

Jesse goes first in the line, gesturing towards his arm at a security agents that’s controlling the machine. The agent immediately looks like they sucked on a lemon. Falsely casual, Jesse strolls into the machine and stands as directed, hands above his head as the machine whirls around him. Another agent then takes him aside and behind a screen, likely to give him a pat down, swab his hands, the works.

 

“Sir, can you please remove your shoes?” The agent corralling people through the scanner says.

 

Hanzo puts on a bland smile and says, “They are prosthetic, they go from my hip down,” and knocks on his thigh as though it were possible to hear the sound of flesh hitting metal over the hustle and bustle of the airport. Not that his thigh is metal- the metal there is all internal. The agent controlling the scanner looks like they’ve now begun sucking two lemons, perhaps three.

 

“I see, could you roll up your pant legs for me?” the agent replies, not blinking an eye and obviously more experienced than the scanner agent.

 

Hanzo complies, rolling his pant legs up to where his mid calf would be. The metal is warm and smooth: he can feel the eyes of the curious travelers behind him.

 

“Please step into the scanner, feet on the markings on the floor and hands above your head.”

 

Hanzo does so, the machine whirs around him once, and then another agent comes by and gestures him to a small screened off area. That agent smiles apologetically and asks for his hands, which he holds out loosely, and swabs them before putting the swab into a machine to be analysed.

 

“My nan lost her leg in the crisis,” the agent says, making small talk, “They give her hassle everywhere. Not as nice as yours, but still.”

 

“Yes,” Hanzo replies, “But I understand the precaution, after the crisis.”

 

“Of course, of course. Lose the whole of both of them then?” The agent asks absently and then immediately looks a bit flustered, “Sorry to ask, but we gotta know where the metal ends, you see?”

 

Hanzo nods, uncomfortable, “Just above the knee down is all prosthetic, there are pins and plates up to the hip joint.”

 

The machine beeps and the agent glances at it before nodding. A second agent who’d been standing silently approaches with a metal wand. A portable metal detector, likely, and begins waving it up and down Hanzo’s body after asking him to stand with his feet apart and arms out. Thankful for the privacy screens, Hanzo stands and awaits the coming pat down.

 

The hands are brisk, from the first agent, feeling along his legs and body for any hidden weapons. Hanzo tries not to feel vaguely violated, and reminds himself that they’re just doing their jobs. It doesn’t help. The two agents walk away and Hanzo is left standing there with no shoes on, his prosthetics exposed, and feeling vulnerable and unsure: two emotions Hanzo has never appreciated. He rubs his hands together, trying to work them back into normal sensation after they had gone slightly numb from the anxiety.

 

A new agent approaches and Hanzo immediately feels defensive, as this one appears to be higher ranked and, to Hanzo’s distant horror, is pushing a wheelchair.

 

“Sir,” begins the agent, “My name is Santiago, I understand your prosthetics are outfitted to better suit rough environments, correct?”

 

“Yes,” Hanzo says slowly, “I rock climb. The prosthetics are built to better grip at the walls.”

 

“I'm afraid that they can be classified as dangerous objects to be used as weapons,” drones Santiago, sounding anything but apologetic, “you may check your legs in and they will be stowed away.”

 

Hanzo’s gaze turns to the wheelchair, flushed and grinding his teeth. There are four other nameless agents in the area along with Santiago and they're all staring at him as though his prosthetics are dangerous weapons. While Hanzo has indeed used them in such ways before, and there is hidden compartments for thin knives, (the knives had been removed for just this reason) Hanzo has no intention of round house kicking anyone today. Yet. The expectant look Santiago is wearing, as though he expects everyone to simply give up their only means of independent mobility on his say so, is very quickly fueling his round-house kicking fantasies.

 

But they're undercover, and the last thing they need is trouble when in a few hours they'll be sneaking Lúcio, out of the country.

 

Hanzo has spent many years learning to swallow his pride: it's never gotten easier for him, only less bitter.

 

“Now hold on there,” interjects a familiar voice. Hanzo contemplates simply digging a hole and sneaking Asuka out of Overwatch never to be seen again. Surely it would be better than this.

 

“Sir, please step away. This is not your concern.”

 

“Not my concern that you're tryin’ to take my fiancés legs from him?”

 

The agents shift uncomfortably- Santiago scowls. Hanzo keeps his face carefully neutral.

 

“Now, why didn't y'all ask me to take my arm off?” Jesse says, deliberately thickening the false Portuguese accent he adopted for this mission.

 

“Your arm is not-”

 

“My arms made of metal and it's a hellova lot easier to punch a guy out than to kick him out.”

 

“His feet are sharpened and can possibly be used as weapons!” Santiago retorts.

 

“So have him wear shoes. Like he was, before this mess started. Look, everyone knows someone with modified prosthetics, since the crisis. Ya got claws, drills, utility tools, whatever people need. You're seriously telling me you've never seen some modified feet before?”

 

Silence for a moment and then Jesse says pointedly, “you really wanna deal with folk hearin' 'bout how your airline makes amputees remove their prosthetics? Humiliates them?” A pause, and then a reminder, “Everyone and their mother.”

 

“Let me check with my supervisor,” says Santiago, begrudgingly, after a long pause. He goes off to a corner, talking into a communicator. It doesn't take amazing hearing to overhear the angry sounds coming from the communicator. Santiago returns, face blank, “you're free to go, sorry for the inconvenience.”

 

“Thank you kindly,” Jesse replies, moving to tip the hat he doesn't have on his head.

 

Hanzo nods briskly and walks past them all to retrieve his belongings. People are staring. He grabs his things and sits heavily on a bench, roughly pulling on a shoe and scowling when the heel bends under his foot. He continues scowling as he shifts and fiddled with the heel trying to get it back out: his movements jerky and sharp and not at all effective and it takes several long moments to complete the task.

 

He ignores the shadow that falls over him and gets to work on the other shoe. It's harder to ignore the quiet “oof” that Jesse let's out as he sits just a touch too close for Hanzo’s frayed nerves and violated personal space. Hanzo’s pride keeps him from moving away, but he must have stiffened because Jesse moves down slightly on his own accord. They sit in silence until Hanzo finishes putting on his shoes.

 

Hanzo roughly crosses his arms over his knees, leaning heavily over them and staring blankly at the floor. Jesse says nothing.

 

“I would have given them my legs,” Hanzo finally settles on after a few drawn out moments.

 

“You shouldn't have to,” Jesse replies.

 

“You may have brought too much attention to us: they will likely be researching us now. Able to recognize us.”

 

“Yeah, probably.”

 

“You do not particularly like me. More importantly, you do not trust me. Nor should you.”

 

“Yup.”

Another long moment passes. There are children whining and children laughing in excitement for their first plane ride. Hundreds of hurried travelers rushing from one terminal to another. A passenger with a metal jaw gets pulled behind the screen Hanzo was behind- they look vaguely amused. Their jaw is decorated in geometric patterns with large flowers overlaying it- turning their prosthetic into beautiful art.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Any time.”

 

Hanzo stands, lifting his arms above his head in a simple stretch, one arm grasping the other in the pattern of an upside down “4”. He relaxes, and turns to Jesse, something not quite kind but not quite the standard neutrality on his face, and offers a hand. Jesse in turn smirks and without hesitation firmly grasps Hanzo’s hand and hoists himself up with it. Hanzo easily supports his weight, pulling him up without so much as a muscle tremor.

 

“Think they got any coffee in this piss joint? Freakin’ Genji makin’ us old folk take the red eye.”

 

“I saw a smoothie stand further in.”

 

“Hot dog! Smoothies? I'm game.”

 

Hanzo gets a strawberry smoothie and Jesse a pineapple mango one. Jesse steals at least three large sips from Hanzo’s to which Hanzo responds by swiping Jesse’s and downing a quarter of it in three seconds flat. The resulting brain freeze is worth it for the playful, easy banter that results between them.

 

* * *

 

Later, on the plane, he sleeps, and remembers.

 

* * *

 

It is the week before the third anniversary of Genji’s death. He is staying in a town north of his old home- about an hour’s drive. When you’re performing repeated infiltrations, never arrive or leave at the same time: an old lesson being used against the ones who taught him.

 

Year one had been... Bad. He'd missed the actual anniversary, caught up in trying to forget the blood on his hands anyway he could: sex, drugs, alcohol. All temporary, but he sought them regardless. When he realized the date at last- and that'd he'd missed the anniversary- he'd attempted suicide by taking as many pills as he could find and slitting his wrists. When he had awoken later in the hospital, he didn’t stay long enough to see who had bothered with calling an ambulance. He changed into his clothes, removed the devices attached to him, and scaled out the window and into the night. It was a sign, he'd decided, from the Gods- he was meant to suffer for what he's done.

 

Hanzo had snuck into his own flat and retrieved his bow and a stash of money and left for Hanamura- late is better than never, as the Americans say. He'd been vicious, the first time- aiming to kill any and all in his way. He'd been sloppy, and still weak from the hospital. They captured him and, as a result, he lost his legs. Escape came in the form of a former caretaker from his youth taking pity on him and sneaking him to The Doctor where he was fitted with prosthetics. The second year, honor bound to repay The Doctor for their service, he was less reckless with his life. The second time was neater, cleaner, but still full of death.

 

This year will likely be the same as last: one year into his three year contract with The Doctor he has no choice but to return alive and so he cannot recklessly charge in. He waits for the day to approach, passing time in coffee shops and libraries, parks and arcades, seeing Genji wherever he goes. Today, he is on a bench in a park, people watching. A young woman sits on the bench with him, a polite amount of distance away, reading a book. It is a comfortable sort of silence between them- each minding their own business but enjoying the day in the presence of another.

 

Perhaps twenty minutes pass without incident. The clouds overhead are light and airy, the cherry blossom’s fall slowly, dancing in the slight breeze. They bloom late this far north- most of the country is already past cherry blossom season. It’s beautiful, Hanzo muses, and he is unworthy of such beauty. The peace does not last, however, as a rowdy group of boys- University age, perhaps, make their way down the path. They see the young woman sharing the bench with him and begin shoving at each other, pointing and gesturing rudely. The woman stiffens, obviously noticing, but remains still and staring at her book.

 

As they get closer, Hanzo can see their grins turn wretched and their gaze leering as they look at his companion as though she were food. He keeps his posture loose but his gaze sharp, waiting to see what they will do.

 

“Hey Lady. how about you put the book away and have a real conversation with some of us?” One asks, the others mutter their assent.

 

The woman ignores them-most likely hoping they’ll lose interest if she doesn’t respond. Hanzo recognizes the type from his Clan days, however. Starving dogs, the lot of them.

 

“Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you, you’re being rude,” the same one whines out. The woman’s shoulders hunch up and she continues looking at the page, “Hey,” anger enters his voice, “I said-”

 

“I would recommend you leave her be, child,” Hanzo interjects coolly without turning to face them.

 

“Yeah?” Scoffs another one, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

 

Slowly, Hanzo raises his gaze to face them. He keeps his back straight, head held high, and face carefully blank. He stares them down until he sees them shift- even the woman has put down her book now. Very deliberately, Hanzo moves one hand over, right over left, and pushes the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing enough of the dragons to make a point: He is far more dangerous than they are.

 

The change is immediate, the first one who spoke throws his hands up in a calming motion while the others either stiffen or move back, “Hey, hey, sorry! We didn’t realize she was yours! You can-”

 

“Respect,” Hanzo intones, pitching his voice lower, dangerous, “should be extended to all, without me giving reason for you to do so,” he tilts his head to the side, “Perhaps I ought to teach you?”

 

And they’re off, running in the opposite direction, as though that would save them should he truly desire more than to scare them. He snorts, shaking his head and turns towards the woman beside him, taking her in fully for the first time. Her skin is dark and her black hair wavy. Her eyes are near black with how dark they are but reflect the sunset in the light making them blaze like the sun. She is nervous but not fearful, Hanzo notes with some surprise.

 

Hanzo bows slightly to her, trying to make her feel at ease, “I apologize for their rudeness.”

 

“Ah! No, Um, thank you, very much! But, um, uh,” she trails off, unsure, nervous.

 

Hanzo carefully keeps his posture non-threatening and his voice soothing, “They were without honor or respect- I will not harm you.”

 

She still seems tense, but less nervous. She looks in the direction the boys ran off to and then turns to him, training defiant sunset eyes on him, “You won’t hurt them, will you?”

 

Hanzo is slightly surprised- normally in situations like this he is thanked and the person takes off, fearful he will change his mind, “They would be deserving of it,” Hanzo points out, curious as to how she will respond.

 

She shakes her head no, “I’m the one who was disrespected by them,” she says, voice gaining strength as she goes on, “I should decide what they are deserving of. They will think twice now before bothering any woman ever again. That’s enough.”

 

Amused, Hanzo replies, “People like them do not learn.”

 

“You don’t know that!” she shoots back, the passion in her voice surprising him, “Anyone can change, given the chance.”

 

Hanzo couldn’t keep both brows from shooting up at that, astounded by her outspokenness to what most would assume was yakuza of some sort. Lecturing him, even. She seems to realize, suddenly, who she’s talking to as the nervousness returns to her. She doesn’t apologize though, a stubborn set to her jaw despite the fear.

 

Hanzo admires it.

 

“I was never going to go after them,” Hanzo admits, wishing to put her at ease.

 

“You were never- then why did you?”

 

Hanzo smirks slightly, “I wished to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

 

She flushes at that, a scowl on her face and Hanzo huffs out a short laugh.

 

A phone alarm beeps then, causing the woman to jump slightly. She mutters as she digs through her bag, searching for the device so she can shut it off. After doing so, she stands and faces him, bowing, “Thank you for your help earlier,” she says, “but I must get to work.”

 

Hanzo nods, replying, “Have a safe journey.”

 

She smiles slightly, and then turns, walking quickly out of the park, leaving behind a bemused Hanzo. A strange woman, Hanzo decides, good, but strange.

 

He doesn't expect to see her again, but he truly has nothing to do until the day he's set to sneak into Hanamura again. So, he goes back to the park. The bench is empty when he gets there so he sits and leans back. The morning sunlight streams through the cherry blossom trees. In the distance, he can hear some children playing. He leans back into the bench and closes his eyes, breathing in deep and falling into meditation. Reflecting on his life to this point.

 

He's not quite sure how long he's sat there when he senses someone stop before him. Hanzo opens his eyes and before him in a light purple dress with a white shawl is the woman from yesterday. He blinks, curious, and then notices the book held beneath her arm. Scooting over on the bench, Hanzo gestures beside him for the young woman to sit, should she wish, and then goes back to his meditation.

 

He feels her sit on the opposite end of the bench and open her book. The amusement he feels is warm, and the slight fondness is surprising. The turn of pages, paper, not a holopad, joins the wind and trees in creating a sort of song. It's been days since he slept- the closer the anniversary draws the more vivid the nightmares become. He realize two days ago that he could no longer recall the sound of Genji’s laughter. The curse of living is forgetting those who are gone.

 

But here, in the warm sun, the quiet page turning, the gentle breeze...it's easy for anyone to slip into sleep. So without noticing it, he does.

 

A time later, he awakes to sense a presence approaching him. He's learned better than to strike every person who approaches when he sleeps- this isn't the first time he's fallen asleep outside. So he keeps his eyes closed. The person hesitates for a moment and then gently touches his shoulder.

 

“Um. Sir? I, uh, food. For you,” the woman from yesterday says, voice without the surety of yesterday.

 

Hanzo opens his eyes and sees her balancing two crepes in one hand, the other pulled back slightly as he “woke up”. She shuffles them for a moment and then holds one out to him. He blinks, staring at the crepe and then back at her. He reaches up and grabs it awkwardly, unsure of how to hold it.

 

“Thank you, miss,” he says mostly on instinct to be polite.

 

She sits down next to him- not on the opposite side as last time, but slightly closer. Hanzo holds the crepe slightly awkwardly, watching the woman out of the corner of his eye to see how she eats it.

 

She is watching him of course and blushed slightly when their eyes meet, “what, have you never had a crepe before?”

 

“No,” Hanzo replied, bemused, “My father believed them to be unbecoming.”

 

She gets a strange look on her face then and it makes Hanzo curious. Before he can ask tho she shakes her head and says loudly, “well now you are eating one! You just eat it! Like a sweet burrito!” And she takes a too-big bite to demonstrate.

 

Her cheeks puff out like a chipmunks and she looks at him with bright eyes and tries to smile around the food. Hanzo can't help the loud bark of laughter that escapes him and she looks vaguely embarrassed but not ashamed. She chews and swallows before gesturing to the crepe in hand.

 

Rolling his eyes, Hanzo makes a show of taking a small, reasonable bite- from the corner of his eye he sees her stick her tongue out at him which makes him smile. The crepe is warm and soft- filled with strawberries and chocolate and the dough is sweet. He's surprised by the vanilla ice cream in the center- cool contrast to the warmth of the rest of the crepe. It's sweet- but not overwhelmingly so. Hanzo hasn't had much sweet in his life.

 

She's watching for his reaction, he notices, so he swallows and turns to her, offering a small smile, “It's good,” he says.

 

“I'm glad!” She chirps, taking another too big bite. It should be uncouth, but Hanzo can only feel slightly fond. It's so unlike the people he grew up with. It's human and genuine.

 

“So what's your name?” She asks around some food in the side of her mouth.

 

He hesitates for a long moment before answering, “Hanzo, at your service.”

 

“Just Hanzo?” She teases.

 

Hanzo nods, and asks, “May I have your name?”

 

“Well Just Hanzo my name is Oliveira, Saki. Before you ask, my father is from Brazil- my mother is from here. When they died I moved to Japan to learn more about my mother.”

 

“My condolences,” Hanzo offers, unsure of what to say beyond that.

 

“My mother refused to let me not know Japanese,” she muses quietly, “she wanted me to feel welcome here if I ever came. But…” she shakes her head, “I'm sorry, I forget sometimes that…” Saki trails off.

 

“It's okay,” Hanzo replies, “I'm in no position to judge should you wish to talk.”

 

Saki hesitates for a long moment and then looks away, biting into her crepe, “I don't belong here,” she says slowly, “but I don't belong in Brazil either. I'm a foreigner no matter where I go or how well I speak Portuguese or Japanese,” she sighs and then smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes.

 

“I understand,” says Hanzo, “I have no home either.”

 

“It's lonely, isn't it?” She says, wistful.

 

“Yes,” Hanzo replies,  thinking of Genji, “it is.”

 

They finish their crepes in silence. A child points to Saki and comments loudly on her skin color before being pulled away by their mother. Saki sighs at that and stands, brushing her dress free of lint and wrinkles. She faces Hanzo and offers a smile, “Enjoy your day, Mr. Hanzo,”

 

Hanzo inclined his head, “And you, Ms. Oliveira.”

It's not until later that night that Hanzo realizes that talking with Saki was the first time he'd laughed so fully since Genji died.

 

He doesn't go back to the park in the rest of the time he's there- it's too close to the anniversary and he needs to begin making his way to Hanamura. But he thinks of her often, wonders at her kindness. Sees himself in her loneliness.

 

When he goes to the place where he killed his brother- invades his own castle- he takes care not to kill anyone and thinks of her, sunset eyes defiant, condemning him, “Anyone can change, given the chance.”

 

Against his better judgement- he returns to that town to the north. He returns to that park. Mind seeing only the after image of those dark sunset eyes that when he's there again he doesn't realize what's in front of him.

 

“Hello again, ‘Just Hanzo’,” a teasing voice breaks his concentration.

 

And there she is- book in her lap, wearing a white blouse and slate gray trousers. A lavender bow is tied in her hair. The teasing smile falls from her face and she looks concerned- Hanzo realizes he's been staring without saying anything.

 

“I was a Shimada, once. The heir.”

 

Her face is obviously startled, she recognizes the name.

 

“I left- after they told me- ordered me- to do... to kill my brother.

 

Tell me, if anyone can change, what of me? How do I change- from someone who could...who could destroy what is most precious?”

 

His head is bowed, tears streaming down his face, begging for answers from a stranger. And then, a touch, soft, gentle, the first kind touch he's had in three years. His knees go weak and he falls to them before her, not looking up.

 

“Hanzo...look at me.”

 

He hesitates, but he does. She puts a hand to his face, wipes the tears from his cheek.

 

“You left, didn't you? Hanzo...you've already begun to change.”

 

From a distance you would see, a man kneeled before a woman, head in hands and tears streaming down his face. The woman, hugging his head close, leaning over as though she could protect him. You wouldn't know that It's the beginning of something- something kind and gentle, something soft and sweet. Like a warm crepe on a spring day.

 

A migrating turtle dove flies high in the sky, all soft browns and ashy grays, far from its warm summer home. Overhead, a peregrine falcon flies, casting its shadow.

 

* * *

 

Hanzo awakes when the plane lands, jolting him from the memory. Jesse beside him stutters in his light snoring but otherwise has no outward reaction. He takes a moment to take several deep breaths, eyes darting around and taking in his surroundings. When his heart returns to a normal level he turns to Jesse.

 

Snorting, Hanzo leans down to pull out his backpack from under the seat in front of him, “You may stop pretending to sleep now.”

 

The snoring continues. Hanzo places the bag on his lap as the plane taxis to the terminal.

 

“I am a father of a five and a half year old. You cannot fool me, Jesse McCree.”

 

Deliberately, Jesse snores loudly and obnoxiously, causing the couple in the aisle over to glance their way. The illusion is ruined by the small smirk Jesse allows to cross his face. Allows, because Hanzo knows that people like them are too wary to let their true emotions control one’s facial expressions.

 

The longer they're awake the more riled up Hanzo gets. It's been three weeks since Hanzo has spoken to Asuka. They have a layover, unfortunately, in the U.K., where they'll meet Genji and Lúcio on the connecting flight home. They're still technically on the mission until the moment they enter base- Hanzo can't in good conscience contact his daughter until they're safely in Gibraltar Base’s scrambling zones. The separation has been hell- the only distraction has been the mission and his teammates. The Strain only showed more after they smuggled Lúcio into their hotel room- with nothing to do but wait for the day of their returning flight, Hanzo’s anxieties reared their heads.

 

This, of course, led to arguments. With no way to control his situation, Hanzo sought to control his environment- a habit from his youth he never managed to kick and something that, even after finding peace with the Shambalii, still annoys the hell out of Genji. They snapped at each other- Hanzo for the messes in the room causing him stress and Genji for seeing his brother revert to old habits and not understanding them.

 

Hanzo hated that it was happening even as it occurred, but could stop neither the nervous habits nor the snapping anger. Lúcio and Jesse wisely stayed out of it for the most part: tho Hanzo did notice that after the second day of waiting they both took more care to clean up after themselves.

 

The tension of going through security, and Hanzo general dislike of airplane and flight in general, had distracted him before. Now, with a near six hours of layover, all Hanzo has to distract him are his own anxieties. And Jesse McCree, who is acting absolutely, childishly distracting.

 

Hanzo is slightly embarrassed that Jesse, at least, seems to notice his anxieties and seeks to relieve them in his own way. He was raised to find making a nuisance of himself deplorable and shameful. His time with Saki, who showed him a different way of living, eases the sense of shame that wells up within him. Mostly, he feels grateful, thankful, perhaps even touched that the cowboy would do this for him.

 

A warmth fills Hanzo at the compassion Jesse shows towards him. A kind man. Hanzo looks out the plane window to hide his upturned lips. No, not a kind man, Hanzo decides, but a good one. Perhaps that makes all the difference.

 

The plane finishes taxiing- and the unloading process begins. Hanzo and Jesse remain seated as everyone else gets up and moves to collect their belonging. Jesse makes a show of “waking up” winking lazily at Hanzo, who rolls his eyes dramatically with a huff of laughter.

 

“Well there Hanzo, what're your plans for the next six or so hours?” Jesse asks.

 

“Drink until I do not have to think of yet another plane ride,” Hanzo replies wryly.

 

Jesse raises a brow and replies, “didn't take ya for the drink’ type. Or the type to hate flyin’.”

 

Hanzo snorts, “I drank often on my youth. Sake mostly. Wine. Whisky on occasion.”

 

“One of those things s’not like the others,” Jesse sing songs.

 

Hanzo ignores him, continuing, “as for flight: if people were meant to fly, we would have wings. I do not fear flight: I have the common sense most people lack In regards to it.”

 

“Really.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Not even a little scared?”

 

“No.”

 

Amusement, “you saw those old Final Destination movies when you were a kid, didn't you.”

 

“I have not the faintest idea of what you speak but I assume that since it comes from you it must be foolishness.”

 

“Whatever you say,” Jesse sing-songs like he knows some great secret.

 

With most of the crowd cleared off the plane, Jesse and Hanzo step into the aisle and make their way out. Hanzo’s shoulders loosen immediately upon stepping into the airport terminal, and Jesse chuckles like some great joke had been told. Hanzo looks to him in curiosity, but Jesse only shakes his head and walks on.

 

“Now I know you aren't actually plannin’ on drinking, count of the tyke and all. So what'd ya wanna do?”

 

“You need not baby sit me,” Hanzo replies, slightly annoyed.

 

Jesse shrugs, “one part protocol, two parts you bein’ more interesting than most folks here. Now, let's find some coffee for I get a migraine.”

 

“If you were to bleed coffee would pour out.”

 

“Damn straight."

 

* * *

 

The next six hours passes by excruciatingly slow- Hanzo glances at the clock constantly, and the more time passes the more nervous energy fills him. He takes out all the sugar packets at the cafe they sit at and rearranges them twice and does the same to the packets of Jelly- first organizing them by flavor of jelly, then by the seasons the fruits grow in, and finally resorting to patterns that grow more and more complex. The dead eyed stare of their server indicates that this isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last, that someone has done this. Jesse meanwhile, watches with his chin on his fist, increasingly fascinated by the patterns and offering distraction in the form of easy flowing conversations and simple games.

 

Hanzo is grateful for the distraction- when time isn’t moving excruciatingly slow, it flies as they either flit from one topic to the next or analyze the same topic from multiple perspectives, seemingly completely dependent on Hanzo’s own mood that hour.

 

Most notably, Jesse does not once tell him to ‘Just relax’. It’s...nice.

 

At hour five, Genji and  Lúcio’s flight lands. The two join them at the table that Hanzo had hastily cleared to hide his anxious habits. Without the ability to focus his energy outwards, Hanzo’s temper and patience quickly frays. Not wanting to cause a scene, Hanzo, who’d been flowing with conversation earlier, clams up.

 

Under the table, Hanzo picks at his cuticles until he can feel the warmth of blood. He smears it in in circles, coating the nail until the texture turned tacky before pressing down and rubbing, making the blood flake off. When his fingers become too sore on one hand to continue, he switches to the other. Forty five minutes before their plane arrives, Hanzo has exhausted both hands and is more than grateful for his jacket’s long sleeves. He traces the Kanji of Asuka and Saki’s names over his scarred wrists and then moves on to Genji’s. Then their mother’s. He repeats the pattern over and over.

 

Eventually, despite time crawling to a halt, it is time to board. Hanzo nearly jumps out of the chair when Jesse casually suggests making their way to the gate and needs to force himself to keep pace with everyone else.

 

Boarding the plane takes no time at all- this time he sits next to  Lúcio, who offers a bright smile when they sit down next to each other. Lúcio’s dreadlocks are down, instead of in their iconic ponytail, and there’s not a speck of green to be seen. A pair of thick plastic glasses with tape on the nose to complete the look.

 

Making small talk as they wait, Lúcio taps the edge of the glasses, “Prescription, actually. Can’t see a thing without ‘em.”

 

Hanzo grunts noncommittally. His grip on the armrests is tight as the plane’s engine revs up.

 

“Not a fan of flyin’?

 

“No,” Hanzo forces himself to say, “I have a healthy amount of common sense.”

 

“Ever try music? Give you something to focus on.”  

 

“I have,” Hanzo says, his grip loosening slightly, “My phone has lost power, however.”

 

“Hey no problem. Connect to mine- I’ve got some new tunes I’m workin’ on, and I’d like some feedback.”

 

“I am no expert in music,” Hanzo cautions, “I am afraid my feedback will not be very contructive.”

 

“Nah man, I don’t make music for, like, experts or anything. Just people. Just tell me what works and we’ll play with it. Collaborative effort. Music is different all around the world and what sounds good is different too.”

 

“How will my imput help reach people at large then?”

 

Lúcio offers a bright grin, “I want to make music that unifies all people. Bring all sorts together. First step to understanding someone is having some common ground right? I want to bring people together. A global community.”

 

“Why?”

 

Lucio shrugs, already digging through his bag for his phone, “Why not? I’ve got the skills, and maybe I can help people. Doesn’t that mean I should try?” He pulls out his phone, an older model, and asks, “You have earbuds?”

 

Hanzo pulls out his headphones, and Lúcio nods approvingly, “Nice, better for your ears man. Don’t buy into those earbud crap. That’s how you get tinnitus.”

 

Hanzo snorts, smirking, “Tell that to McCree- the fool insists cheaper is better.”

 

“Probably feels that way about his liquor too,”  Lúcio grins conspiratorially and Hanzo lets out a slightly too loud laugh, “Here, connect to my phone, it’s ‘HippityHop’ and the password is ‘ribbeat’.”

 

Hanzo fiddles with headphones, entering the password after finding Lucio’s phone on the bluetooth.

 

“Now, sit back, relax, and feel the beat.”

 

As they take off, Hanzo can’t be bothered to notice the shaking of the plane or the rumble of the engine or even feel the faint pressure of g-force on his body as they rapidly speed up. He listens instead to the struggles of the people of Brazil- he feels their lives, their energy, in the rythem. For a time, Lucio’s people are his people- their struggles, his struggles, their lives-his. Their passions, fears, failures and triumphs- he feels as though he experiences them all.

 

Lucio, Hanzo thinks, is the type of person who can change the world. No wonder they tried to to take him out.

 

They’re well into the air when the song ends, a single note drawn out into silence- what was once ‘we’ becoming ‘one’ once more.

 

“Well?” Lucio asks, shifting to take in Hanzo’s expression, “What’s good?”

 

Hanzo carefully removes the headphones. He thinks very carefully of what to say, of how to word it and when he speaks after several long moments he does so slowly, “You have captured the soul of struggle and passion,” he begins and then stops before starting again, “I have never felt so connected to people through music before. But…”

 

“But?”

 

“I don’t know,” Hanzo says, a little frustrated, “Something is missing, but I do not know what.”

 

Lucio sighs, shaking his head, “Yeah, that’s how I’m feelin’ it too.”

 

“May I have a copy of this song?” Hanzo asks, “Given time, perhaps I can offer better feedback.”

 

“Aww, you don’t have to do that,” Lucio says, slightly embarrassed, “It’s enough that you listened and said your honest thoughts. Most folk just say ‘I like it’ and nothin else.”

 

Hanzo shakes his head, determined, “No, I would be honored to assist. More than that I would enjoy it- your talent is remarkable. It would cause no pain to listen again.”

 

Lucio gives a bashful smile, ducking his head slightly, “You’re all right ya know?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Well, in the hotel, and before, at the terminal, you were all angry and stiff. I was totally prepared for you to, like, pretend I wasn’t here and to, i don’t know, stare off into the distance or something. But this is cool.”

 

Hanzo chuckles, “I’m afraid my temper and patience have been thin these past few days for reasons that shall become clear. My apologies for any slight I may have caused- it was not my intention to be rude.”

 

Lucio shrugs easily, “Nah, it’s cool. I feel bad honestly. The entire situation was a mess and I was pretty nasty too, after everything,” he waves vaguely in the air, trying to gesture towards everything, “Here, I got another, wanna listen?”

 

They spend the flight like that, huddled together, listening to music- brought together by chance and circumstances and bound by the rhythm of the beat.  

 

* * *

 

 

There’s landing, which Hanzo grips the arms for, then there’s picking up their luggage, then there’s the drive. Hanzo started picking at his cuticles halfway there. He tries to force himself to focus on the conversation the other three are having. Mostly, it involves descriptions of the others on base coupled with old stories to give Lucio an idea of what they’re like. They make no mention of Asuka while not on base- not even a vague hint- which Hanzo would be grateful for if his bones didn’t feel like they were vibrating.

 

Eventually, when the sun is just beginning to dip past the horizon and the sky painted red and orange the clouds tinted an almost purple color, the base finally comes into view. Hanzo’s leg starts jumping up and down.

 

Lucio laughs and says in a teasing voice, “You got someone waitin’ for you?”

 

Hanzo grunts an affirmative, eyes trained ahead. There are vague people-shapes in the distance. One is smaller than the rest.

 

They pull up and Hanzo is out the door before the hover-vehicle is in park. He manages three long strides before falling to his knees in order to meet Asuka’s embrace as she runs into his arms. Hanzo cradles her close, scooping her in a half bridal carry as her arms lock in a vice grip behind his head and her face presses tightly into the junction of his shoulder and neck which is quickly becoming wet with tears and snot.

 

Her little body is shaking but her cries are silent. In that moment Hanzo wishes for nothing more than for her to have lived a life where crying loudly like any other child came naturally to her.

 

The nonsensical cooing noises come naturally to Hanzo after nearly six years. He shushes her, reassures her, rubs circles into her back. Vaguely, he hears people talking around him, but it doesn’t matter because his daughter is upset and needs him right now.

 

Eventually, she goes limp in his arms, having cried herself to sleep. He stands, scooping her up easily. The only ones left outside with them are Genji, Jesse, and Angela.

 

“She grew very depressed while you were gone,” Angela says quietly, “After the first week of no contact she began having night terrors and lost her appetite. Have you not been parted before?”

 

Hanzo sighs, “We have, but never longer than a few days without contact and never for longer than two weeks.”

 

“It’s not healthy,” Angela begins, “She should be more independent at this age-”

 

“Angela, perhaps now is not the best time,” Genji soothes.

 

“There are _assassins_ after us, Doctor Ziegler,” Hanzo retorts, steamrolling Genji’s attempts at defusing the situation, “To leave her alone is to leave her vulnerable to death or abduction. And,” he raises his voice only slightly when she opens her mouth, in consideration of the child in his arms, “they have nearly succeeded before. You need not trust me as a person, Doctor Ziegler. But trust me as a father- I am doing everything I can to give Asuka the best life possible. I am here, am I not?”

 

She has nothing to say to that, and Hanzo is exhausted, physically and emotionally. He walks past her and heads to his room. After a few minutes, the sound of feet approaching at a slight jog reaches Hanzo’s ears and Genji slides up next to him.

 

“I apologize, brother.”

 

“Why? You do not control other’s opinion of me.”

 

“No, but I have been impatient with you since the start of our mission. I saw your every action as a reflection of who you used to be, instead of who you are now,” Genji says wryly, “It seems that I did not extend the same ideals of change to you as have been extended to me, and I apologize for that.”

 

Hanzo shakes his head gently, careful not to dislodge Asuka, “We are both learning to live around one another again. No one is at fault.”

 

Genji laughs lightly, “You sound so old now.”

 

“I believe it was you who said I was born old and with a scowl on my face.”

 

“That was nearly fifteen years ago! Would  you let that go?”

 

“I apologize, I have misplaced my hearing aids. Young man, would you help me look for them?”

 

“It appears you are still an utter ass, brother. At least that has not changed.”

 

Hanzo smiles gently before it fades, “I am not the brother you knew, Genji. In some ways, this is likely for the better. In others, worse. Above all else, I am a father now. I am afraid that it has been a long time since I have been a brother. Please be patient with me.”

 

They walk in silence for a few moments before Genji replies, “I am not the same either, Hanzo. And it has been a long time since I have been a brother as well. We can learn, together,” he says earnestly.

 

“I hope so.”

 

They stop in front of the door to Hanzo’s room and it slides open before Hanzo can input the command. Hanzo gazes bemusedly at the ceiling before glancing at his brother-stranger, “VI system?”

 

“A very advance once.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“AI creation is strictly monitored, of course.”

 

“Naturally.”

 

“Rest easy, brother. I hope the coming days are easier for us both.”

 

And so, Genji leaves Hanzo and Asuka. Hanzo gingerly lays Asuka down on the bed, tugging off her shoes. He prods her to half-wakefulness and helps her change into night clothes. Tonight, it’s an oversized Tshirt with the word ‘Fight!’ stitched onto it.

 

He changes himself- not even bothering with showering- and crawls into bed, drawing Asuka close. She curls into him and for the first time in three weeks, Hanzo breathes easily. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head as his eyes drift shut.

 

Together again, they drift into a dreamless sleep.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 notes: https://writingdeviation.tumblr.com/post/159779829933/fold-your-wings-chapter-6
> 
> pardon any spelling/grammar errors it's 1:16 in the morning and I just wanted to publish and get this chapter away from me. I'll review it and fix things later o/
> 
> EDIT: Fixed some grammar- I need to stop posting between the hours of 1-7AM when I haven't slept.
> 
> Here's a game: spot the Mass Effect reference!

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @writingdeviant  
> Tumblr: Writingdeviation  
> Discord: https://discord.gg/QVC4pd2
> 
> Fanart:  
> Asuka by the lovely Ecchima: https://twitter.com/ecchima/status/839872720523378689  
> Asuka and Hanzo by Ecchima: http://ecchima.tumblr.com/post/158367512940/heres-a-soft-dadzo-and-his-daughter-asuka-from

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Home To Roost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12240018) by [Interrobang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobang/pseuds/Interrobang)




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